


Life at a Distance

by MaggieMaybe160



Series: Televita [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Aftermath of a Case, Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I hate tags, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 88,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: In 1997, John Winchester brings an 18 year old Dean on a case. There have been a string of apparent murder-suicides in this town that seems a little more monster than human and the Winchesters have to stop it. Dean meets Cameron Smith and finds himself falling in love for the first time. Dean discovers he might want more than just a life of hunting.Their love helps shape what becomes of the Dean Winchester we know and love.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Televita [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177910
Comments: 194
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

Motel rooms start to blur together after a while. Seen one, you’ve seen them all. Or, if you’re Dean Winchester, you’ve seen so many of them you might actually have seen them all. The one he’s currently packing up is nothing special. Two queen beds, one pull-away that’s basically a cot on wheels. Sam and Dean had long since grown out of sharing a bed like they did when they were kids. A maid will pull the cot that Dean has been using for the past week out later today while Sam’s at school and Dean is on the road with their dad. 

“No parties,” John says as he hoists the bag full of guns over his shoulder and leaves the room to bring it down to the car, passing Dean in the doorway. 

“Make sure to go to at least one party,” Dean advises with a smirk as he grabs the bag that has his clothes. “Try not to be such a nerd.”

“Doing your homework doesn’t make you a nerd,” Sam protests. 

Dean laughs. “Uh-huh.” He leaves the room to drop his bag in the car. It’s barely 7 in the morning. He needs coffee and breakfast. The motel office has coffee, but they’re far from having a continental breakfast. They have some stale muffins and a few fun-sized boxes of cereal. There’s also a neglected bowl of fruit. Dean made the mistake of sampling all of it their first morning in this dump. It all tasted like cardboard, even the orange. 

He stops by the office to grab two coffees before heading back up to the room that Sam will be in until this hunt is over. They’d had a big discussion about it. This motel is only two hours from the hunt John found. Sam had already been enrolled at the school down the street from this motel. Dragging him two hours away would make him start over again for the second time in three months and Sam’s freshman year of high school only just started. New school, new district, same old motel room. 

Sam used to argue, begging to come with them on hunts. Now he argues the opposite. He even petitioned for a boarding school so he wouldn’t have to move at all. Dean had watched their dad explain that there was no way to pay for it. Credit card fraud can’t get your kid into a private school. 

“That for me?” Sam asks as Dean walks into the room. He’s already reaching for the coffee. Dean hands it to him and leans against the dresser. 

“They were out of creamer and sugar,” Dean warns him. Sam makes a face but takes a sip anyway. “I’ll call to check in with you when I can.”

“I’m fourteen, Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes but it’s not going to stop him from calling and checking on the kid. He shouldn’t even be left alone here, but he deserves a chance at being a normal high school kid. He doesn’t want to hunt monsters. He wants to join chess club and try out for the school play. He wants to do his homework and make science fair projects. Dean can still remember the fight over soccer teams and boy scouts. 

“Just pick up the damn phone when I call, will you?” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“Fine. Jerk.” 

“Bitch.” 

John walks back into the room with his own coffee and announces that the car is all packed. “Here’s your emergency money and enough for your meals. There shouldn’t be a problem with the room. If you need more, call our room. You know our names?”

“Eduardo Castellano and his less than capable son, Richard. AKA, Dick,” Sam says. Dean rolls his eyes as he tries to keep from smiling. 

Their dad laughs and shakes his head. It’s not a common occurrence anymore with Sam and John butting heads so often, but he must be in a good mood after landing this case. “You got it. If you can’t get ahold of us or it’s an emergency?”

“Pager,” Sam says, clearly bored with this drill. He holds up the one that they usually keep in the car. “Go. I have to get to school.”

“Have a good day. We’ll be back soon.” They aren’t really a  _ say I love you at the door _ kind of family. They never have been. John leaves the room and Dean pushes off the dresser and nods to his brother before following. 

Dean slides into the passenger seat. He prefers driving. He likes the freedom he feels when he’s behind the wheel. His fingers fit perfectly on the wheel of this car. His heart beats with the rumble of the engine. The gas pedal might as well be an extension of him, connecting to his core through his foot and up his leg. Instead, he sits in the passenger seat and looks out the window. 

“I’m still not sure what we’re hunting,” John admits as they pull onto the main road. Dean looks over at him. 

Dean knows that whatever they’re hunting is killing people. Fast. There have been a string of murder-suicides. Every scene is nearly the same. The murder vics all have angry slashes that scream crime of passion. Their assailants all have a single gunshot wound through the roof of their mouth. There’s never a sign of forced entry even if the two didn’t seem to have any relation to each other. If it weren’t for the obvious suicide, the cops would have labeled it a serial killer case. His dad has his theories. He’s hoping it’s a demon that can lead to his dead wife’s murderer, but Dean already knows this isn’t a demon. He doesn’t know what it is, but if it was, John wouldn’t even have him in the car, the protective side of his parenting finally kicking in. 

“The only connection I’ve found so far is they seem to all circle one area of town,” he continues. Dean nods. “The map is in my bag.” 

As Dean reaches into the backseat, he wonders when his dad even had time to work on a map. He must not have slept again. He pulls the folded square out and opens it on his lap. It’s an obvious pattern. The police probably have a similar map. He studies it as his dad puts a tape in and hits play. He stares at the red circle in the middle of the town until he thinks it’s been long enough before he folds the map back up and shoves it back into the bag. 

When they get to their new motel, John changes into his fed suit and heads to the station while Dean stretches out on his bed with a burger and fries. It’s only nine, but it’s noon somewhere, right? He waits for his dad to leave before going to the cooler and popping open a beer. He can’t go with. He looks too young to pass for a fed or anyone with a profession really. He could pass as a deli worker or a bag boy at a grocery store, but that doesn’t exactly help. Once they have something to research, he’s the one who will have an easier time getting into college libraries.

Dean turns on the tv and flips to his telenovela station. The little Spanish he knows is limited and dramatic. People who say they don’t like daytime tv just haven’t found the right channel. It’s a nice break from hunting supernatural creatures. An over the top show about a brain surgeon losing his memories and falling in love with the wrong woman feels normal compared to Dean’s every day. 

He knows his dad will be working all day. That’s usually how it goes. He’s on research detail until he’s useful. He’s a good shot and a good soldier so he gets to come out to take the thing down at the end, but until then, he’s usually set up in the room with the books, maps, and notes galore. 

At three, there’s still no sign of his dad. He’d walked to a deli around one for lunch. The sandwich is long gone, but he finally opens the bag of chips as he grabs the phone and dials Sam’s room. It rings twice before he picks up. 

“Hello?”

“How was school?” he asks like the parent he feels that he is. The parent John rarely is. 

“Fine.” Teenagers. 

“What’d you learn?” He crunches on a chip and taps his feet in time to a song he’s had stuck in his head for the past three days. Juke Box Hero had no business hanging around for three days after he’d listened to nothing but AC/DC to banish it, but  _ he heard one guitar! _

“So get this,” Sam says somewhat excitedly, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!”

Dean laughs. “I did manage to learn that before ditching the whole thing.”

“I’m so bored. I already know all this stuff, Dean.” Kid’s too smart for his own good. He doesn’t want to take advanced classes because he’s worried it’ll make him stand out. From the frustration in his voice, maybe he’s finally had it and will take the damn placement test. 

“Tell  _ them _ that,” Dean says. 

“Dad will kill me. He already said he doesn’t want me going to college. That we have bigger fights. Responsibilities.” Yeah, Dean had been there for that fight. Hell, he’d taken the beating after he’d stood up for Sam by saying college wasn’t the worst goal a kid could have. Sam hadn’t seen it. He never does. 

“You have four years before you have to worry about college. Just take the damn classes, Sam.” It’s been too long since he’s had to hold up the fantasy that John cares. He used to when Sam was little. He would pull the wool over his eyes for him and let him believe that their dad really did want to spend Christmas with them but was stuck hunting. Even so, he won’t say shit he wants to like  _ “Dad won’t even notice.” _ Sam still cares even though they fight. 

Dean’s just resigned at this point. He hopes to break free at some point, but he’s just a soldier. He’s disposable and no good at anything else. John had made that perfectly clear over the years. It’s why Dean stopped trying in school. It’s why he dropped out when he was sixteen. He’s not sure when he shifted from son to soldier, but he tries not to think about it. Hunters don’t live long and he’s not going to waste it wondering why he doesn’t deserve a life of his own. 

“I’ll ask to take the placement tests tomorrow. Think we’ll be here long enough for it to matter?” 

Not at this school, but maybe it’ll make it easier to stay in whatever nerd classes he gets into at every school after this. “Just take the tests. I’ll call in a couple days.”

“You don’t need to treat me like I’m eight, Dean. I can take care of myself.” Sam hangs up before Dean can answer. Fuckin’ teenagers. He’s been trying to be an adult since he was twelve. He ran away two years ago and their dad had to leave in the middle of a hunt to go find his wayward son. Dean had been left to clean up that hunt alone for the first time and he’d never felt more conflicted about finally having independence. 

John walks into the room around five with two pizzas and a two-liter of coke. Dean turns off the tv and takes his pizza to his bed. “It’s not a demon,” John sighs, loosening his tie before dropping it onto his bed. Dean nods but stays quiet, waiting for any other information as he shovels the food into his mouth. “From what I can tell, it looks like something that can make humans do things. Telekinesis or psychokinesis or something.”

“Mnph?” 

“The only connection I’m finding is that at the center of it all is a building with a bunch of doctor’s offices. Therapy, physical therapy, radiology. All of it. Whatever’s doing that could be a patient or work there.” 

“I’m not going to therapy,” Dean says seriously, swallowing too much at once to make sure he’s heard. John shakes his head like the thought never even crossed his mind, but he’s sure it probably did. 

“No. I had a better idea. One of the therapists needs a babysitter for his daughter. I want you to babysit for him and find out what you can about the employees there. He probably has a key at his house you can take while he’s at work.” 

“A babysitter? Who the fuck would hire me as a babysitter?” Dean shakes his head. “We don’t even have any leads yet.”

“I have another direction to look into, but I want you focused on the medical offices. Got it?” He does this sometimes. He segments off the priorities and leaves Dean in the dark on the rest of the hunt. He only gets to see as far as his dad lets him. John hands him a flyer with the contact info for the job. “Finish eating and call.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says because it’s an order. There’s no question and Dean isn’t willing to blow this into a fight on the first day. He looks down at the page in his hands and sighs. He finishes his bite of pizza and grabs the phone. 

“Dr. Cameron Smith,” a man answers. 

“Hi, this is, uh, Richard Castellano. I saw your ad.” He doodles on the flyer as he talks. 

“Oh! Thanks, uh.” He sounds nice, if not a little pressed for time. He asks about Dean’s babysitter experience and if he knows CPR and the Heimlich. Dean tells him he knows both, though he has to lie about babysitting. He’s only ever been in charge of his brother and that was more like parenting. “Can you meet for an interview tomorrow? I’ll have to do it before work. How’s eight?” Dammit. An interview? He’s not dressing up. The guy’ll have to deal with jeans and a band tee. 

“Eight is fine. Where?” He gets an address to a cafe and the call ends with Dr. Smith telling a girl named Kayla that her dinner is ready. Dean circles the address he’d written and looks over at his dad. “There. I’m meeting him tomorrow.” 

John nods and opens his hunter’s journal, closing off the conversation while he strategizes the part of the plan that Dean isn’t a part of. Dean pulls his pizza back onto his lap and opens Slaughterhouse Five to his last page, satisfied with a quiet night. He’s read this book so many times, he knows it backward and forward, but he never tires of it. 


	2. Chapter 2

John had gone to a bar the night before to drown his widowed sorrows and came back at three to pass out. Dean misses his mom too. The anniversary of her death was only a few days ago. He’s surprised they’re even on a case right now, but it’s probably just something John needed to hold onto besides a bottle. 

The morning is chilly but that’s November for you. Dean showered quickly and pulled on his hoodie before quickly ducking out of the room. His breath puffs visibly as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking to the cafe where he’s supposed to interview to be a babysitter. He’d thought about bringing his walkman but decided against it when he realized he’d accidentally left it in the car and the keys were in the coat that John was still wearing. 

Dean orders a coffee and a breakfast sandwich before taking a seat at a table and picking at the bagel in front of him. There is no reason for him to be nervous right now. He has his favorite pistol in the back of his pants in case this interview goes sideways in any way. But he’s not nervous about that. He wants the job. He knows how to take care of kids. He raised his brother and he thinks he did an alright job given the circumstances. It doesn’t make sense. He didn’t want it last night when he made the call, but he wants it now that he’s sitting here waiting for his interview. 

“Richard?” a man with brown hair and dark brown eyes asks. He’s more than easy on the eyes and can’t be more than 25. Dean swallows and nods. 

“Dean. I go by my middle name,” he says, holding out his hand. Dr. Smith takes his hand and shakes it firmly before taking the opposite seat. 

“Cameron,” he smiles. 

“So, you need a babysitter?” Dean asks, trying not to stare. He grabs his coffee and takes a sip. 

“Yeah. My last sitter recently had an accident. I still have work and can’t leave my daughter home alone yet. She’s only seven and she’s a menace at the office.” He half-laughs and Dean smiles. “I just need someone to pick her up from school and be with her until I get home. I’m usually home by six but sometimes get held up at the office.”

“So homework, snack, and maybe dinner?” Dean asks, the routine already embedded in him.

“Exactly. She plays soccer so sometimes she likes to go to the park after homework. Also big into superheroes. Wonder Woman is her favorite right now.”

“Strong choice,” Dean nods. “I used to babysit my brother. Little old for that now, but I get it. What days?” 

“She’s with me for Wednesday through Saturday. Her mom has her the other days. I try not to work on Saturdays, but it happens sometimes. Would that be okay?” Cameron takes a sip of his coffee and leaves his hands wrapped around the mug when he sets it back down. 

Dean doesn’t really have to think about it. “Sounds great. I, uh… I don’t know how long I’ll be in town for. I have to move a lot because of my dad’s work. I think we’ll be here for a while, but…”

“I moved as a kid too,” Cameron says. “Settled here when Kayla was born. You’re good with seven year olds, right?” 

“Anything but teens apparently,” Dean says, reminding himself of Sam’s decision to finally take the tests. He’s worried they’ll keep growing apart as Sam grows up, but maybe that means Sam has the chance to escape hunter life. Maybe Sam can get out for good. 

“Thankfully, I have a few more years before that,” Cameron laughs. “Is it weird that I can’t wait?”

“No. It’s awesome seeing Sammy grow up.” Cameron’s smile is one Dean could get lost in. He’s melting in his seat. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. “Today’s Friday. Would you need someone today?”

“I want Kayla to meet you before I choose for her. If it was only up to me, you’d have the job.” He finishes his coffee with one larger sip and puts the empty mug down with a disappointed grimace. “Kayla can be nervous around people. She’s a great kid, but it would be hell if she didn’t have a say in who her babysitter was.”

“Understood,” Dean says as he nods. 

“If you’re free, we can meet you at the park by our house around four?” he asks hopefully. Dean nods and watches Cameron scribble down the name of the park on the back of a business card before he hands it to Dean. “I should go before I end up buying another coffee and stay to talk all day. I’ll see you at four, Dean.”

“Yeah.” 

He watches Cameron leave before looking down at the card. He’ll have to get over how attractive he is. It’s not like he just got a guy’s number. It’s a job. Nothing else. Besides, it didn’t go particularly well last time his dad found him in bed with a guy. He pockets the card and eats his breakfast before heading back to the hotel. 

Dean wakes up his dad when it’s ten. He’s used to it and it’s always worse in November. John sits up and takes the cup of water with the alka seltzer tablets fizzing in it and the aspirin from Dean without question. 

“Did you get the job?” John asks when his cup is empty. 

“I have to meet them at the park later, but probably,” Dean says as he stretches out on his bed again. He grabs his book as John heads to the bathroom to take a shower and make himself look like a federal agent instead of a hungover mess. 

“Am I coming today?” Dean asks when John emerges as Agent Castellano. 

“No. Just get that job.” He makes it to the door before he looks back at Dean. “I know you want to do more, but I don’t know enough about it yet. I can’t go getting you killed. Just get that job. I know you can so don’t come back without it. Do you need any money for lunch and dinner?”

“You won’t be back for dinner?” Dean asks, finally looking up from his book. 

“I don’t know yet. Need money or not?” He’s practically got one foot out the door already. 

“No.” He can go hustle some pool somewhere if he needs more cash. It’s better than asking his dad for anything. John nods and leaves again. 

Dean doesn’t spend a lot of his time in parks. His life isn’t filled with leisurely strolls or the laughter that comes from a happy family. He hunts. He cleans guns and researches how to kill evil sons of bitches. His family fights or doesn’t talk at all. Parks really aren’t in the cards for Dean’s weekends. 

He’d walked to the park while carrying another sandwich from the deli he’d gone to the day before for another lunch. His food is long gone, but he stays sitting on the bench. There’s an old couple at the fountain who seem to be in a lighthearted debate on what to wish on while they hold onto a single penny. Dean doesn’t know why he can’t look away from them. Maybe it’s envy. He knows he’ll never have it. He can’t imagine he’ll ever fall in love or grow old, let alone both. They toss the penny into the fountain and the husband presses a kiss to his wife’s cheek as she beams.

“Dean! You’re here early,” Cameron’s voice calls. Dean looks over and waves, standing to meet him on the path. “Kayla, this is Dean,” Cameron says to his daughter. Kayla must take after her mother. She has green eyes and sandy blonde hair that’s pulled up into a ponytail. She also has a soccer ball under her arm. 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean says. 

“You play soccer?” Kayla asks in lieu of any kind of greeting. 

“Not really. Can you teach me?” Kayla grins and nods, throwing his ball onto the field. Dean glances at Cameron who smiles and points to the bench Dean had just been sitting at. He’ll watch, but not join. 

Dean follows Kayla onto the field and listens to the seven year old tell him how to kick a ball. Apparently, he can’t just kick. There are different moves. Kayla recommends Dean sticks to the inside of his foot because she thinks the other styles are too complicated for a beginner. Dean does as she says and demonstrates a few times before Kayla steals the ball from him and starts running downfield toward two trees she had indicated as Dean’s goal. 

“Dad said you have a brother. Where is he?” Kayla asks after a few minutes of playing. 

“His school is really far from here,” Dean says. 

“So he’s with your mom?” Kayla presses, kicking the ball back and forth between her feet. 

“Our mom is dead.” It might be a bit much, but it’s the truth. Kids can see through lies better than any adult. 

Kayla nods, frowning. “Sorry.” She kicks Dean the ball again. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Did you see Hercules?” And just like that, they’ve moved on. Dean laughs and tells her he missed it. He doesn’t spend time in parks and he doesn’t go to the movies. Kayla tells him the entire movie in enough detail that Dean doesn’t have to watch it now. He doesn’t mind. 

“Don’t you have to go back to work?” Kayla yells over to the bench. 

“No, I have a kid to feed,” Cameron calls back. 

“But I have a babysitter now,” Kayla says as she steals the ball back from Dean and runs it over to the bench. Dean follows her over with his hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. 

“Did you ask him to be your babysitter?” Cameron teases. Kayla turns around suddenly and Dean stops walking abruptly. 

“You’re my new babysitter, right? Please?” Who can say no to that face? Orders from John aside, Dean smiles and nods. 

“Sure.” 

She jumps a little with that grin and turns back to her dad. Cameron gets up and smiles at Dean. “We can go over everything now. Show you the house and everything. Someone has to get home and finish her homework.” 

“Sounds good.”   
  
Kayla talks to no one in particular as she walks ahead of Dean and Cameron with her soccer ball under her arm again. Dean doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He ignores his stomach flip when Cameron’s arm bumps into him by accident. He really, _really_ needs to get over how good looking and nice Cameron is. 

The house is small and Cameron mutters, “Not much, but it’s home,” but to Dean it’s beautiful. It’s much better than the cramped motel rooms that could never be a home. There are bookshelves with a mix of kid books for Kayla and novels for Cameron. Two bedrooms with their doors facing each other across a small hallway. A bathroom at the end of the hall, another in Cameron’s room. The dining room is part of the kitchen. The backyard has a treehouse in progress and patio furniture set up next to the covered barbeque. It feels like a home. 

“You have to see these!” Kayla says, grabbing Dean’s hand to pull him toward her room. 

“Homework,” Cameron reminds him. She lets out a dramatic groan and lets go of Dean. 

“Show me on Wednesday,” Dean says. Kayla nods reluctantly and goes to grab her backpack as Dean walks back toward the kitchen where Cameron is still standing. 

“Any questions?” Cameron asks. 

Dean can’t stop himself. “After school and sometimes Saturdays for work. Any date nights?”

“Ah. No.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs a little. “No chance of that.” Dean has no right to the relief he feels, but he shows no outward sign of it. “Know how long you’re in town for?”

“As long as Dad’s job lasts. Might stick around after.” Even as he says it, he knows it can’t happen. He’s a hunter. He can’t settle down anywhere and there’s no chance that he’ll leave Sam alone. 

“You don’t have to go with him?” 

“I’m eighteen, dude,” Dean defends himself. Cameron puts his hands up in mock surrender before turning and grabbing things off of shelves to start making dinner. “What’s the story with her mom?”

“Nothing too exciting,” Cameron says as he fills a pot with water. “Jenny and I met in college. I was eighteen and free. We never actually dated either. When she told me she was pregnant, I promised to be there for our kid. Neither of us wanted to get married. She’s lovely and independent. Just not meant to be. She’s a good mom.”

“So you’re a shrink who actually had a life,” Dean says, finding himself leaning against the wall while Cameron cooks pasta and chops up vegetables. 

“You could say that,” Cameron laughs. “From the sounds of it, you’ve had a full life before twenty too.”

“You could say that,” Dean agrees. 

“No college and rad parties for you?” He’s easy to talk to. Dean can see why people would pay to unload their life stories to him. He can’t, but part of him wants to. 

Dean shakes his head. “Dad wants me to take over the family business. Don’t have a choice.” He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, but it eats away at him knowing he’ll be doing this for the rest of his life.

“Everyone has choices.”

“Don’t use your shrink mind powers on me,” Dean laughs. Cameron smiles a little. 

“Sorry. Habit.” The timer goes off and Cameron goes to dump the pasta into the colander. 

“I can go. Get outta your hair. I should write my number for you though,” Dean says. 

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner.” Cameron hands him a post-it note stack and a pen for the number to Dean’s motel room. 

“I shouldn’t.” He doesn’t want to intrude any more than he already has. He scribbles down the number and smiles. “Old man is probably waiting.” He isn’t. 

Cameron hands him a key to the house and frowns. “I didn’t mean to keep you. Time always seems to run away.”

“No biggie. I’ll see you Wednesday.” He pockets the key and glances toward Kayla’s room that has a big  _ DO NOT ENTER _ sign on it. “Unless you call. Uh. For work.”

“Right. See you Wednesday. Unless I call.” He holds up the post-it with Dean’s number. He’s not imagining it. There’s something there, right? Or he’s making things up because he’s been talking to a cute guy for more than five minutes. 

“Bye, Kayla!” Dean calls at the door.  
  
“Bye, Dean!” comes the muffled response from down the hall. He smiles and leaves, closing the door behind him and doing his best not to sag against it as he chastises himself for his crush. 

Dean walks back to the motel and picks up a burrito on the way. He already knows better than to buy two. He pushes open the door. The room is the same as when he’d left it. He tosses the motel key on the table and grabs a beer from the cooler before turning the tv on and plopping himself down on the edge of his bed. Cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stares at his list. When John had come back near one, he’d finally had something to tell Dean about the case. Dean had scribbled down what he was supposed to be searching for on the babysitter flyer. His dad thinks they’re hunting something called a televita. They’re rare and hard to find because apparently, they have a pretty strong power of persuasion. They’re not weak to the common monster tells like silver or iron either. John is still trying to work out how to tell if a suspect is the monster. 

What they know about televita is particularly narrow. They can control people with their minds and they feed off of humans in an unknown way which would be why the murders are happening. They don’t know how to find one, kill one, or stop the murders. Luckily, the murders don’t seem to be happening back to back. They’re spaced out enough that they’re actually harder to trace, but it also gives them time to figure out more about televita without losing more innocents. 

Dean is supposed to find a way into the medical office building where Cameron works so he can find the link that the deceased have. He doesn’t want to steal from Cameron or even think about it, but that’s the whole reason he has the job. Maybe he can find a way in without stealing a key. Either way, he’s breaking a very new trust. 

If it were earlier in the night, Dean would have left to go to a bar. Instead, he sits up with the flyer and no hopes of sleep. John’s snores are the only sound in the room. Well… That and the distant thumping and moaning from a room down the hall. Nothing quite as romantic or sexy as a one-star motel with indistinguishable stains on the carpets and bedding.

There’s a payphone outside. Dean digs in his pocket for some change before leaving the room and crossing the silent parking lot to the phone. There are names and weird doodles etched into the plastic around the phone. There are a few numbers with promises of a good time in sharpie, and a suspect stain on the yellow pages of the phone book. Dean wrinkles his nose and makes sure not to touch anything but the money slot and the phone. 

Sam answers sleepily after a few rings. “Hello?”

“So apparently, we’re hunting a televita,” Dean tells him. He hears Sam sigh and sit up. “Dad doesn’t know much at this point so I don’t know how long we’re gonna be out here.”

“Great. You do know it’s three in the morning, right?” Sam groans. 

“I do now.” He must have been sitting in there wide awake for longer than he thought. “You gonna take those brainiac tests?” 

“Yeah. I’m supposed to be at the school at nine to meet with the teacher—”

“Kinky,” Dean interrupts purely for the joke. 

“For the _tests_ , Dean,” Sam scolds him. “Gross. She’s like eighty.” 

“No shame in liking what you like, Sammy,” Dean continues teasing. Sam is laughing in spite of himself. They only talk for another minute or so about nothing before Sam has to go back to sleep and the payphone is begging for more change. Dean doesn’t mention Cameron or the babysitting gig. He doesn’t need to know. 

Dean goes back inside and pulls the blankets over him. He closes his eyes and waits for sleep. He doesn’t know when he drifted off, but he feels like his eyes have just closed when the phone rings. He jerks awake and grabs the phone, accidentally lurching himself off the bed. 

“Ow.” Dean lays flat on his back on the ground and holds the phone to his face. “Hello?”

“Are you alright?” Cameron asks. Oh, good. Cameron heard that. 

“Aces. Sup?” He sounds like an idiot, but the clock on the nightstand says it’s only nearly six. That will be his excuse. Little less than three hours of sleep is a good excuse to sound like a moron, right?

“There’s been an emergency and I need to meet a patient right now. I hate to do this to you right now, but—”

“I can be there in like twenty minutes,” Dean says. That’s how long it took him to walk it yesterday. His dad would kill him if he took the car. 

“Thank you.” Cameron hangs up and Dean picks himself up off the ground. He changes his clothes quickly before grabbing his motel key and running out the door. 

The walk seems longer before the sun is up even though Dean is walking faster. He should have taken the damn car. It’s not like his dad is going to wake up anytime soon. If Dean isn’t back by ten, John won’t wake up until the afternoon probably. The morning mist makes his cheeks colder and his hair damp. It flops in front of his eyes as he pulls up his hood. 

He makes it to the house and lets himself in with the key. Cameron is on the phone with someone and looks over his shoulder at Dean. His stubble is a little longer for having to rush this morning, but it looks good. He tells them he’ll be there soon and hangs up. 

“Thank you so much. I should be back before nine. I’ll try to call if I’ll be longer. Coffee is in the pot in the kitchen. Thank you, thank you.” He grabs his bag and leaves quickly.

The house feels suddenly still. Dean pulls his boots off and leaves them by the door to walk to the kitchen in socked feet. He finds the mugs easily enough. There are a lot of Disney mugs so Dean grabs one with the genie from Aladdin. The coffee is rich and much needed after the night he’s had. Dean goes to the living room and looks through the books on the shelf. Steven King. Vonnegut. Cheesy romance? Dean picks up the romance novel with Fabio on the cover and brings it back to the couch. 

“Pirate, huh?” Dean mutters. He flips the book over. “ _But to have you, I first must tame you—to awaken you to the dangerous ecstasy of a pirate's passions...and a lover's touch,”_ he reads in a dramatic whisper. “Wow. Alright. Let’s go, Fabio.” 

Kayla wakes up at eight. She walks out to the living room in mismatched pajamas. The top has a faded Eeyore on it and the bottoms have princess tiaras all over them. Her hair is sticking in every direction but she already looks alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah. Your dad had a work emergency,” Dean says, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf. “Breakfast?”

“Poptarts and ice cream?” she asks hopefully. “Will he be home in time for my soccer game?”

“He said he should be home before nine so any time now. I can do poptarts and hot cocoa.” They go to the kitchen and Kayla sits at the table. 

“Yes, please.” Dean finds the poptarts and puts them in the toaster while he grabs the hot cocoa mix and a mug with Simba on it. “My game is at ten. He better be back in time.” Dean has a bad feeling he might be the one taking Kayla to her soccer game. With how frantic Cameron had looked when he’d left, the emergency seemed serious. 

“Bon appetit,” Dean says, serving the cocoa and poptarts. It’s a sugar-loaded breakfast, but that’s his favorite kind too. He adds a glass of water for good measure.

“Orange too?” Kayla asks after biting into a poptart. 

Dean grabs one from the fruit basket and tosses it to her. He refills his coffee and grabs a packet of poptarts for himself before joining Kayla at the table. She talks a lot. She talks about school and how her best friend, Maddy, is going to be a professional drummer when she grows up while Kayla goes pro with her soccer. There are about five other friends in the inner circle but she says their names so fast that Dean doesn’t have time to commit them to memory. He just nods and tries to follow the stories about recess and class antics. 

The phone rings and Kayla’s face falls. Dean gets up and grabs the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dean,” Cameron answers. He sounds exhausted and his voice is filled with regret. He’s not going to make it. “I was hoping to be leaving right about now, but I have some things to finish up here before I can leave. Can I give you directions to the field so Kayla can go to her soccer game?”

“Yeah. Let me grab a pen.” He meets Kayla’s eyes and mouths _sorry._ She nods and takes a sip of her hot cocoa. He grabs the post-its and a pen. "Okay.” 

Cameron gives him the directions and a vague idea of what time to leave to get there on time. “I’ll try to get out of here as soon as I can. Thanks, Dean.” 

“No problem.” He’s used to these kinds of phone calls, but at least Cameron actually sounds sorry. Dean turns around and takes a seat at the table again. “Alright. Since I don’t have my car with me, we have to walk to the game.”

“Aw, man!” Kayla throws her head back dramatically and Dean has to stop himself from laughing. 

“So, we gotta get outta here by 9:30.” 

They both look up at the clock and Kayla hops up immediately to go get changed. Dean takes care of the dishes and looks around for a water bottle. He finds a clear plastic bottle with soccer stickers all over it and guesses it’s the right one before filling it with water and waiting in the living room for Kayla to finish getting ready. 

“I didn’t know they even did soccer this late in the year,” Dean says as they leave the house together. Kayla’s jersey is bright green. She mentioned earlier that her team name was the Sour Apples or something cute like that. 

“They don’t. This is the Turkey Tournament. Only the best teams get in!” she says proudly as she pulls on her gray sweater that displays the name of the tournament with a large turkey on it. “We’re going to kick their butts!” She punches the air and grins up at Dean. Her smile slips a little and she adds, “It’s the last game of the season today. That’s why I wanted Dad there.”

“He might still make it in time to see you play,” Dean says hopefully. Kayla only shrugs like they’ve been through this before. “What about your mom? Does she come to the games?”

“No. She doesn’t like soccer. We do other things like art. Besides, she sleeps in on Saturdays." She shrugs. “Grown-ups are weird.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Their walk continues with Kayla chattering away telling Dean her life story. Or what a life story is to a 7 year old. 

When they make it to the field, Dean’s jaw nearly drops. There are already four games in progress side by side on the upper field. Judging by the cheering going on by the stairs that lead to the lower field, there are even more games down there. The concession stand is open and selling hot teas, ciders, cocoa, and coffee along with donuts and coffee cake. Water bottles are being sold for 25 cents each out of strategically placed buckets. Parents, siblings, and teammates fill the outer edges, all focused on the game where their team, sibling, or child is playing. Kayla grabs Dean’s hand when she notices that Dean has stopped walking and she pulls him toward a gathered team of other bright green jerseys and gray sweaters. 

Dean parks himself at the sidelines as the kids warm up. He’s got his eye on Kayla but he’s also keeping track of the changing crowd, ready for danger. It’s a habit he can’t break. Anyone could be a monster, even the human kind. When Kayla waves to Dean, he turns and tries to focus solely on the game that’s beginning. Kayla is a forward. He’s not a sports guy, but she just explained that it means a lot of running and trying to score goals. The defensive line is more for the goalie who sits in the net with a bright orange sweater on with weirdly big gloves. The other goalie’s sweater is purple, their team yellow. He doesn’t get much, but he knows that if Kayla or any of the green jersey kids gets the ball in the other net, then he has to cheer. 

It’s fifteen minutes in when Dean spots Cameron practically running to get to Kayla’s game. When Cameron’s eyes spot her, he grins and shouts, “Go, Kayla!” If she hears him, it doesn’t break her concentration. Dean waves before rubbing his hands together and shoving them back in his pockets. He should have worn something thicker than this hoodie. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Cameron pants as he stands beside Dean. 

“You haven’t missed much. Neither team has scored, but I think we got close once,” Dean updates him. Cameron smiles at Dean before looking back at the field. 

“How was she this morning?” Cameron asks after a moment. 

“Aces,” Dean says. “Breakfast without a hitch.” 

“Perfect. And thanks again.” He smiles and Dean’s knees go weak, but he looks away and shifts his weight. “Are you staying?”

“I’m here. I’m invested,” Dean says. “Hell yeah, I’m stayin’.” 

They’ve known each other for just over twenty-four hours and already everything feels comfortable and natural. It doesn’t feel weird or out of place to be standing beside a soccer field in this cold ass weather cheering on a team of 7 year olds with the biggest crush he’s had in a while standing beside him. It doesn’t feel weird when there’s an intermission or whatever you call it and Kayla comes running over, sweaty and excited, to gulp down her water and excitedly ask if they saw her. And it doesn’t feel weird when Cameron and Kayla invite Dean to a celebratory lunch after the game.

Dean almost chokes when he sees Cameron’s car. It’s a 1985 Impala. Dean’s model is twenty-three years older and parked in a motel parking lot with an arsenal in the trunk. Kayla gets in the backseat as Dean opens the passenger side door. 

“Nice car,” Dean says as he takes in all the differences. They’re basically from two different planets at this point with how different the interiors are, but under the hood, they’re probably still pretty similar. He hadn’t had the chance to see a newer Impala at Bobby’s before the big fight between Bobby and John. 

“Thanks. It’s nothin’ much, but it gets us from point A to point B.” Cameron pulls out onto the main road and glances over at Dean. “What do you drive?”

“A, uh…” He pauses to laugh. “67 Chevrolet Impala.” 

Now Cameron laughs. “No kidding. Must be a great car to still be running.”

“We take care of her.” 

“I want a VW Bug when I can drive,” Kayla chimes in from the back. “They’re cuter than other cars and when I drive by people, they’ll have to punch each other.” 

“Great reason to get that car,” Dean agrees. 

It’s a short drive to Biggerson’s. As soon as they’re sitting, the menus in front of them, Dean feels his nerves on fire telling him to leave. So far, everything that he’s done since he’s rolled into town and pretended to be a babysitter has been separate from his normal life. He met at a cafe for the interview that he’d never been to before. He met Kayla at a park, the kind of place he never frequents. He’s been to their home, a small little house that is nothing like his string of motel rooms. It’s not even like the cluttered mess at Bobby’s. The soccer game was maybe the furthest from Dean’s life that he could think of. Maybe that was why he’d felt safe enough to venture to have lunch with them. But Biggerson’s is a burger chain that John takes Sam and Dean to all the time on the road. It’s in most of the states they drive through. He has a regular order. 

“Are you alright?” Cameron asks. 

Dean looks up from the menu that he hadn’t been reading. He realizes that he has a white-knuckled grip on the laminated pages. He thinks about going out to the payphone to call the room and tell John where he is, but he’s sure he’d be met with anger. He can put that anger on hold until he gets back from this lunch. He forces a smile and comments on his favorite burger. 

Lunch with Cameron and Kayla, even at a place that he frequents with his own family, is completely different. Cameron gets a salad and steals fries from Kayla’s plate of fish ‘n’ chips. Dean ordered a chicken sandwich instead of his usual burger to divide the experiences further. It’s happy. Kayla is still riding the high of winning her game. Cameron can do nothing but smile and show just how proud he is. Dean tries to soak up the feeling and wrap it around himself as an armor to protect himself from… well… everything. 

“What else are we doing today?” Kayla asks when her plate is empty. She sips the rest of her coke obnoxiously. 

“Well, you’re going home and taking a shower because you stink,” Cameron says. 

“Hey!” Kayla protests. 

“We’re going to drop Dean off after this,” Cameron continues. Dean nods in agreement and Kayla makes a face but doesn’t say anything. “We can go to Blockbuster and rent a few movies to watch in our blanket fort later.”

He shoots. He scores. Kayla grins and starts in on the movies they could rent before cutting herself off to tell her dad that they can’t use the heavy blanket this time because it made their fort cave in last time. Dean tries to think back to the last blanket fort he made and can’t think of a single time. 

“Here is fine,” Dean says, pointing to the grocery store parking lot that’s down the block from his motel. “Need to grab some things before heading home.”

“You sure?” Cameron asks as he pulls into the turn lane. 

Dean nods and tries not to betray how nervous he is to have Cameron so close to the fleabag motel he’s staying in. When they park, Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to Cameron. “Thanks for lunch. It was awesome.” He looks into the backseat at Kayla. “Great game today. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“See you Wednesday!” she beams. 

He looks back at Cameron, unable to help himself. Those eyes capture him. He wants to stay here all day. He wants to go back to the soccer field where they stood shoulder to shoulder to cheer for Kayla. He wants to feel Cameron’s arm brush against his while they walk. His eyes dip to Cameron’s lips before he can catch himself and he clears his throat, getting out of the car as fast as he can. 

“Bye, Dean,” they call out their windows. Dean waves and walks into the grocery store where he plans on buying nothing. 

Inside, people push their empty to overflowing carts. Three teenagers in their pajamas argue over which donuts to get from the bakery. An old woman pulls individual coins from her wallet to pay for the cranberry juice and a frozen meal. Dean turns toward the window and pretends to inspect the flowers and balloons as he watches the much newer Impala leave the parking lot and merge with the midday traffic. 

He counts, leaving a long enough space between his entrance and his exit before he leaves just to be sure Cameron won’t see him in his rearview mirror. The motel is only one block over. If you’re not looking for it, you probably won’t see it. The sign doesn’t light up and the buildings themselves aren’t anything special. The paint is chipped. Some of the numbers on the doors have fallen off or hang at odd angles. The parking lot is neither full nor empty. It’s nondescript and easily missed, the perfect place for hunters to stay during a hunt. 

Dean runs his finger delicately along the side of his car. Not his. His dad’s. “Hey, Baby,” he sighs before letting his finger drop off the edge. He unlocks the door with his key and steps inside. 

“Where the hell have you been?” John orders as soon as the door is closed. 

“Take a chill pill. I was just babysitting,” Dean says, his cheeks heating with anger. “You know— doing the job you told me to get?” 

“You could have left a goddamn note, Dean.” John shakes his head, slamming down a page of notes on the table that Dean has yet to drop his key onto. 

“What is this?” Dean asks, not bothering to read any of his dad’s scribbled ravings. 

“Two more murders.” Dean’s blood runs cold and he looks down at the details. “I wake up and find out that two more John Does are dead in an apparent murder-suicide. It could have been you. What the fuck were you thinking, Dean?” 

“I was doing my job and I had my gun.” 

“We don’t know if your gun will do anything to this thing!” John yells. Dean flinches and immediately hates himself for it. John doesn’t seem to notice, but Dean sure as hell does. “You get called into work again and you leave a goddamn note. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Stay here. I’m headed to the morgue. Bodies got in thirty minutes ago.” John leaves without another word. Dean lets out a breath as soon as the door is closed. 

He’d had too good of a morning for it to go on forever. At least he came back to a reality check. He’s not here to flirt with Cameron and watch soccer games. He’s here to hunt down a monster that’s killing people. But he’s sidelined right now and Cameron needed him. The thought fills Dean’s stomach with butterflies that he can’t stop. Cameron’s intoxicating smile is worth any kind of scolding. Reality check failed, Dean heads to the shower. 

He locks the door and tosses his clothes on the floor while he waits for the water to warm up. It takes a minute, but soon steam is filling the small bathroom so he steps in and lets the heat seep into his skin. He doesn’t bother with any soap yet. 

Dean just needs to get Cameron out of his head. Once he’s out of his system, he’ll be able to think clearly… Hunt clearly… And stop thinking about Cameron’s dark hair, smiling eyes, and perfect lips. He wonders how soft they are and how good they taste. 

Dean’s hand circles his own shaft, pumping immediately and quickly. His other hand is braced against the shower wall as the hot water pours over him. 

He hasn’t seen Cameron naked, but he seems fit. Dean imagines the layers coming off to reveal his toned chest, smooth and kissable. He imagines his fingers trailing down Cameron’s hard abs while their mouths collide, starving for each other. 

Dean moans and pumps faster, his breaths coming harder. He’s close to coming and he knows that this isn’t going to get Cameron out of his mind. He wants him. He wants to feel him inside of him. He wants to suck on his tongue and lap at his dick. He wants to feel Cameron’s hands in his hair and his breath on his neck. 

Dean spills over and lets himself groan loudly with climax. He grabs the soap when he stops panting and cleans himself up but it's no use. He can use all the soap in the world and it won't change the fact that he still wants Cameron. 

After washing up and drying off, Dean gets dressed again and flops onto his bed, curling up with a pillow. 

Dean isn't falling for someone. He doesn't have crushes. He's just another body in a battle. He’s disposable, a shield, a fighter with a time limit. It’s already been drilled into him that he isn’t meant for more than that. There isn't any room for romance in this life. There isn't any time for love. He isn't supposed to fall in love. Not that this is what that is. 

He doesn’t just want the fantasies either. It hurts to admit that he wants more from a virtual stranger with a nice smile. His heart jumps when Cameron smiles. He wants to be the reason Cameron laughs. He wants to be there to cheer with him at soccer games. He wants to witness every fry he steals from Kayla’s plate. 

Dean buries his face in his pillow. He’s fucked. 

The phone rings and Dean wakes up. He’s only been asleep for an hour, but that’s a fine enough nap. He grabs the phone and mumbles into the phone, not ready to be awake yet. 

“Dean?” Sam asks. 

“What?” Dean groans back, sitting up and blinking blearily. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans into the phone to keep his head up. 

“Were you sleeping?” God, he’s judgmental. 

“It’s called a nap, Sammy,” Dean retorts. “Was there a point to this or are we here to talk about our sleeping patterns? You got another full eight, didn’t you, you lucky bastard.”

“I called to tell you I was looking into televita for you.” Dean’s eyes snap open, suddenly more awake than he had been. “I didn’t find a lot, but they look basically human. They don’t even develop their powers until they hit puberty.” 

“What even are their powers? They can make people ice each other for no reason?” Dean reaches over to the side table where he shoved his babysitter flyer with his notes scribbled all over it. 

“They have psychokinesis but specific to humans as far as I can tell,” Sam says. “They’re pretty rare so I can’t find a lot of lore.” 

“You’re supposed to be studying for your nerd test and partying anyway. You don’t have to do research for us.” Sam isn’t on this hunt and he’s still more valuable to the team effort of hunting than Dean is. 

“I wanted to help.” Sam taps a pen audibly. “I finished my tests this morning. They’re going to go over the results and possible schedule change with me on Monday.” He sounds nervous. If he were there, Dean would probably punch him in the shoulder and tell him to stop worrying. Over the phone, it wouldn’t be the same. 

Dean settles for, “You know you got it.”

“Yeah, I know. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, right?” He huffs. “Just… Don’t tell Dad.”

“Why would I tell Dad about _your_ school shit?” Dean doodles a knife in the corner of the page before tossing the pen and page back into the drawer. “Thanks for the help,” he adds, biting his tongue to keep from telling Sam to keep far away from this case. 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause and Dean wonders if he’s supposed to hang up now. It was stupid leaving Sam in another town. They should have brought him if not just so Dean can keep an eye on him. “Don’t get killed, okay?”

“You sound like Dad,” Dean says, glaring despite the fact that Sam can’t see him. 

Sam makes a gagging noise and then laughs. “Bye, Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean hangs up, dropping the phone back on the receiver. 

The “bitch/jerk” thing had started a long time ago. They had actually been fighting. Dean doesn’t remember what the fight had initially been about but he was barely twelve and frustrated as he did his homework and cleaned guns and looked after his kid brother. 

“Stop being such a little bitch!” Dean had snapped at him. 

“You stop being such a—” Sam had screwed up his face in anger. He’d never sworn before and Dean had bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“A…? What? Go on. Finish it. What am I being?” he’d prompted as his brother’s face grew redder and redder. 

“Such a _jerk_!” Sam had finally yelled. 

“A jerk?” Dean had cracked a smile “I’m being a jerk? Is that the best you got? Ooo. Ouch.” They both burst out laughing at Dean’s teasing. 

It was so stupid that there was no way it couldn’t become a thing. But it wasn’t for fights. It was a reminder that they cared about each other without having to get sappy. No chick flick moments. 


	4. Chapter 4

Kayla goes to a private school. Kayla walks out the front gates with the swarm of children after the bell rings. She waves to Dean, a wide grin on her face. Every kid is in a matching uniform. The girl she’s with whispers something to her and Kayla nods. They hug before Kayla ditches her friend, running toward Dean. 

“Today, we got to work on our solar system projects,” she says without greeting. She does that. He’s noticed she’s not really one for actually saying hello. “I put glitter on Pluto because it’s cold there so there has to be ice, right? But Jake said that there’s no glitter in space.”

“Jake hasn’t been to space,” Dean says. 

“Have  _ you _ been to space?” she asks, looking up at him. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and she laughs.

She continues to tell Dean all about her solar system poster as they walk. Her house isn’t that far and little kids have a way of repeating themselves when they’re excited so they don’t get far in the conversation. He’s figured out that she’s saving the Sun for last and that she plans on using as much golden glitter as she can but not because it’s cold, because it’s too bright to look at. Take that, Jake. 

Dean unlocks the house and they both kick off their shoes next to the door. She drops her backpack by the table before running down the hall to go change. Dean turns to the kitchen and starts prepping her after school snack. She’d asked for apple slices with peanut butter and fruit rollup. He grabs one for himself too before putting her stuff on the table and flopping onto the couch. He wraps the candy around his thumb and cracks open Pirate on the page he last left off on.

Kayla emerges from her room and goes to the table to do her homework and eat her snack. Dean half-listens as she reads the problems to herself and hums while she thinks. He waits, sucking on his candy thumb and reading his romance novel until Kayla calls for him. 

“What’s up?” he asks, sitting up and closing the book. 

“Are you good at this stuff?” She asks. The answer is probably no. There’s a reason he never graduated. He doesn’t remember when he gave up though. Probably after whatever grade she’s in. Second? He takes the seat next to her at the table and looks over at her worksheet packet. 

“Yeah,” he says when he sees she’s learning about money. It’s basically an introduction to fractions with incentive. He digs into his pocket and comes up with a handful of change. He dumps it on the table and Kayla starts moving them according to type, clumping all the quarters together at the top of her packet. 

They work slowly through the problems, both of them sucking the candy off of their thumbs until all that’s left is the red stain and slight sticky feeling. Dean remembers why he hates school. They’re easy problems for him, but it’s all new for her and they gave her a million problems for it. 

“Word problems?” She groans and hits her forehead gently on the table. “I thought we were done.”

“There’s one page left,” Dean says, trying to be encouraging even though word problems are the worst. Who the fuck needs ninety watermelons anyway? 

Kayla sighs and picks herself back off the table and reads the problem to him. He nods along until she finishes. She looks up at him and pouts. “This is useless.”

“This is the least useless of all the math,” Dean counters. “This is the only thing I can tell you for a fact you will use. Look at it again. Figure out how much money you start with.” 

She counts out the amount from the problem from Dean’s change on the table. Dean pretends to be the cashier from the problem and goes to the kitchen to grab something for her to buy. She laughs but plays along, going to the counter. 

“I need two cups, please,” she says. 

“Two cups will cost you…” Dean checks the page. “26 cents.”

“I don’t have any quarters,” she mumbles, looking into her hand. “So… Two… dimes…” she says slowly as she places them into Dean’s hand. “A nickel?” Dean nods and she hands it to him. “That’s 25,” she says after counting again. “One penny!” 

He takes it and puts two cups on the counter between them with the worksheet. She scribbles her answer on the line and pushes it back to him. “Anything else for you today, miss?” he asks, taking his script back. 

“Well, we need drinks for the cups,” she says. 

“Of course. That’s 25 cents, but we’re only accepting nickels at this time.” He grabs the juice from the fridge as she counts out five nickels. She hands them to him one at a time and counts it out for him. “Perfect.” He pours the juice. 

“This one’s for you,” she says, pushing the second cup toward him while taking her own. He grins and thanks her before they continue their homework games.

Cameron’s arrival is sounded by the garage door opening outside. Kayla beams and runs to the garage. Dean tries to swallow down the blush that’s already creeping into his cheeks. He’s only managed to start liking Cameron more over the few days that they had no reason to interact. Every dream, every shower fantasy, every daydream. Cameron, Cameron Cameron. 

“We even finished all my math!” Kayla says as Cameron carries her back into the house. “He’s a genius!” 

“Is he?” Cameron smiles. “Hey, Dean.” 

“Hey.” It’s easy keeping his voice steady when it’s one syllable long. But now Cameron is home which means Dean probably has to go. 

“Do you have a shop or something that you take your car to?” Cameron asks as he sets his bag down.

“Looking for a new place?” Dean asks. 

“I’ve always just gone to whichever place will give me the best deal. Coupons for oil changes and state inspections.” He shrugs. 

“We don’t have a shop. My, uh, uncle taught me how to fix cars and do the regular repairs.” John had been a mechanic back in the day and had shown Dean a few things, but his heart isn’t in his car anymore. He spends his time hunting and drinking. Bobby had been the one to put in the time to actually teach Dean about cars. John used to drop Sam and Dean off with him for weeks or months at a time. They’d work on cars, play catch, and cook lasagna. Until Bobby and John had had that fight. Dean doesn’t like to think about it. “Want me to take a look?” 

“You’d do that?” Cameron looks good today. It’s not helping Dean’s pants get any looser when Cameron starts taking off his coat to hang in the closet or run his hand through his hair and mess it up a little. 

“Sure.” Dean gets up and steps into his shoes before heading out to the garage with Cameron. As soon as the door is closed, Dean is overly aware that they’re alone for the first time since they met last week. He clears his throat and nods toward the car. “Check engine, probably an oil change, and what else? Any weird noises or stutters when you drive?” 

“I think I need the brakes checked too,” Cameron says a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I can do that.” Dean’s staring again but Cameron is too. “Keys?” 

“Right. Yeah. Uh.” Cameron grabs them out of his pocket and hands them to Dean, their fingers brushing enough to feel the jolt. 

“Thanks.” He plays with the keys for a moment before looking back up at Cameron.

“I should go make dinner,” he says suddenly. “You sticking around for mac n cheese?” 

Dean nods before he can stop himself but his heart melts instantly when Cameron smiles because of it. He nods and heads back inside, turning around to say thanks again in the doorway before he leaves Dean with the car. 

He opens up the garage door and lets the cold air in to take the blush from his cheeks and so he can get started on the car. The set of tools that Cameron has is enough to him to check under the hood and confirm that nothing is really wrong. He’ll need to grab a few things from the store to do the oil change and brakes though. 

Dean comes back inside and kicks his shoes off before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands. The medicine cabinet is broken. The door must have fallen off without ever being repaired. The shelves are all full of kid stuff. A rubber duck on one shelf, sunscreen and aloe on another, toothpaste and a Winnie the Pooh toothbrush on the lowest. He washes the car grease from his hands before walking back out to the main room. 

“I have to pick up a few things, but I can work on it tomorrow if you want after I get ‘em,” Dean offers. 

“A babysitter, a genius,  _ and _ a mechanic. Is there anything you can’t do?” Cameron asks with a half-smile that makes Dean’s stomach flip. 

“Well, I’m no genius,” Dean corrects as he sits at the table. He can hear Kayla in her room making weird voices as she plays. 

“My office isn’t far from here. I’ll leave the car here for you tomorrow.” Cameron pulls out some money from his wallet and hands it to Dean. “Payment and some cash for the parts you need.” 

“Thanks.” Dean pockets it without bothering to check how much is there. “Why a shrink?” he asks after a second. Cameron looks over at him, considering the question. His eyes shine a little or maybe it’s just the lights, but either way, Dean can’t and doesn’t want to look away.

“I had a patient ask me a similar question today actually.” He hums a little and stirs the pasta. “My childhood was a little rough, I guess. I don’t remember much of my parents but I bounced from home to home. Lots of psychiatrists were involved. My last one really got me. He was the first person who heard me, I think. I thought the best way to say thanks was to pay it forward. Not like I knew what else I wanted to do when I was graduating from high school two years early and told I should go to college.”

“You graduated at sixteen?” Dean balks. Cameron laughs and nods. “I dropped out at sixteen.”

“There are different paths for everyone. School didn’t agree with you.” Cameron doesn’t even blink an eye at the idea that the genius babysitter mechanic he hired didn’t even finish high school. He dumps the pasta into the colander and starts working on a cheese sauce from scratch. Dean is used to making it from a box with neon orange powder. 

Dean knows he’s supposed to be here to look into Cameron’s work. He’s here to try to dig into the disappearances. It’s the first time since Saturday that he’s able to hold up his end of this hunt, and he’s digging his heels in. His dad has found a small lead, but Dean isn’t allowed to know anything about it. “What do you think about the disappearances?” Dean finally asks.

“I think everyone’s scared,” Cameron says, his voice lower. “I think the cops are in over their heads with this one. I don’t know what’s going on, but they obviously don’t either. Why?” 

“No reason, I guess,” Dean says, relief at not finding a lead with Cameron blooming through him. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Cameron says, the conversation back to normal. He walks down the hall to get Kayla. Dean can hear her protest a little. She’s hungry but one of her dolls just lost some competition and is a little heartbroken at the moment. There are murmurs of condolences before Kayla finally follows Cameron out of her room, happy as can be with no sign of failed doll competitions. 

She takes her place at the head of the table, leaving Dean and Cameron to sit opposite each other. The mac n cheese is creamy and delicious even though it’s paired with broccoli. Kayla doesn’t complain about the vegetables. Sam would like her. He’s always ragging on Dean, telling him to eat a more balanced diet. 

“There’s going to be a bake sale this Saturday,” Kayla says. “You can’t bake so…”

“I can bake,” Cameron protests. Kayla wrinkles her nose and gives him a pointed look. “Okay, I can’t bake. What’s the plan, then?”

“I was thinking of just asking Mom since it’s more of her thing.” 

“We can call her after dinner. I think she’ll really like that.” Dean expected to see a flicker in his eyes of mild jealousy or hurt, but there’s nothing like that. “Everyone else will appreciate it too.”

“Everyone really liked the cookies you got from the store last time,” Kayla says. “But I thought it was cheating a little bit.”

“Would you rather I baked the cookies?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at her. She shakes her head profusely and Dean laughs. “Well, there you go.” 

Kayla fills her dad in on the rest of her day, including the solar system debacle with Jake. It feels like a piece of life that Dean had somehow missed out on. Sitting around the table eating dinner and going over how their days were while they actually listen to each other. No one’s shouting. No one’s talking about what monster is out there killing someone. No one is getting their dreams of soccer and boy scouts shredded in front of them by their dad. 

“What about you, Dean?” Kayla asks. 

“Oh, I picked this kid up from school and then we did homework for a while,” Dean says. She rolls her eyes even though she’s smiling. 

“Before that.”

“Oh!” Before that, he’d been researching how to kill televita while a soap opera star discovered her husband in bed with the maid. “I helped my dad out with boring grown-up stuff.” 

After dinner, Kayla negotiates for thirty minutes of time with the tv in exchange for cleaning up dinner. Dean wants to stay. Instead, he pulls his shoes on and Cameron walks him outside. 

“You’re really great with her,” Cameron says. 

Dean nods. “She’s a pretty great kid.” He rubs the back of his neck before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Least I can do.” The air feels electric. It feels like it could catch on fire from the heat in Dean’s body alone. Cameron has no right to make him feel like his nerves are sparking. He has no right making every inch between them seem like agonizing miles. He wants to reach out to him and kiss him. He wants to feel Cameron’s lips on his in a gentle goodnight kiss.

“I’ll, uh…” He hopes that if Cameron can see the blush in his cheeks that he thinks it's from the cold night air of November. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Be safe, Dean.” 

“Yeah. Night.” As he walks away, he can feel Cameron’s eyes on him. He looks over his shoulder and waves, unable to keep the smile hidden when Cameron waves back. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had fallen asleep researching. His bed is still scattered with books and notes when he wakes up. Some of the pages are wrinkled or folded where he’d rolled over onto them or kicked them to the other side of the bed. The next bed over is cleaner. John had managed to put away his research before going to bed. He snores now, his face half-buried in the pillow. Dean vaguely wonders if he snores as he gets up and goes to the shower. 

After getting ready quietly, Dean shoves his dad’s shoulder. John reaches under his pillow for the knife he keeps there, but sees it’s Dean and relaxes. He sits up enough to look at the time on the clock and nods in agreement that it’s time to get up. 

“I’m heading out,” Dean says as he shoves his notes into the lore books on his bed to tidy it enough so he won’t have to when he comes back tonight. 

“I’ll be out all day. If I’m not back by midnight—”

“Get outta dodge?” Dean guesses. If something takes down his dad, he and Sam were always told to run. They aren’t experienced enough in John’s eyes to try to take on much of anything, let alone anything that can take him down. Besides, number one goal is to keep Sammy safe, and Dean can’t do that if he’s dead. 

John nods and gets up, getting ready for his day. He has a few ideas of where to go looking, asking questions, digging up any other lore that they haven’t found yet. They’re getting closer and when hunters get closer, sometimes the monsters attack. 

Dean has AC/DC blasting on the radio in the garage while he works. It’s cold out, but because he still needs ventilation, the garage door is only open a crack. The car is lifted above him, the wheels resting on two ramps as he lies beneath it, his back on the concrete. Back in Black courses through him, tapping his foot for him. 

He hears a door close and freezes, trying to listen. He’s swapped out his pistol for a flare gun. He’d recently discovered that televita don’t die when filled with bullets of any kind. They only go down in flames. He wipes his hands on the already greasy rag on his leg and scooches out from under the car carefully. He pulls the flare gun and holds it as he normally would if he were clearing a house and glances at the boombox. If he turns it off, he’s in more danger. 

Dean takes careful steps closer to the door and tries to listen past his own music. He can feel the fear at his core, but his training takes over. It stills his hand and keeps him in control. He grips the doorknob and turns slowly. The door barely creaks as it opens. He looks in, eyes darting to check his corners before he steps into the house and closes the door silently. He steps softly to keep quiet as he presses against the wall. 

Then he hears it. 

Cameron is singing along to the AC/DC in the kitchen. Dean sighs, releasing the fear immediately and hiding the flare gun again. Cameron turns just as Dean was about to and jumps a little when he sees Dean standing there. 

“Oh, hey.” He smiles and visibly relaxes. 

“Didn’t realize you’d be here,” Dean says awkwardly. 

“Bad morning,” Cameron sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I woke up late and managed to spill my coffee all over my lunch as I was on my way out the door. Everyone made it to school and work on time, but that sandwich sleeps with the fishes now.”

“Caffeinated fishes,” Dean adds and Cameron grins. Dean’s stomach flips and he swallows hard as Cameron goes back to making the substitute sandwich. His mouth is dry. He walks into the kitchen and washes his hands of the grease before grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it. The kitchen is small enough that this was all an incredibly bad idea. 

When Cameron turns, his arm brushes Dean’s. “Sorry.”

“No, uh.” It shouldn’t be this hard to move in this kitchen. They both abruptly stop trying to move past each other and stand completely still. Cameron’s eyes are the color of melted chocolate. There are some flecks of gold at the center. Dean only knows this because they’re staring right back at him. 

He doesn’t know who moves first, but two dishes clatter to the ground as they’re dropped in favor of Dean and Cameron grabbing each other. Cameron’s lips are hot and soft on Dean’s. He can feel Cameron’s stubble against his upper lip as his tongue slips into Dean’s mouth with eager invitation. One of Dean’s hands rakes through Cameron’s hair, the other gripping his back to keep them pressed together. Cameron’s hands on Dean are starting fires within Dean. One of his hands is on Dean’s hip. The kiss doesn’t slow. It started urgent and fast and only seems to escalate. They’re tangled up in each other before Cameron suddenly pulls away. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He steps away from Dean, his cheeks flushed and hair a complete mess. They’re both breathing hard. Dean doesn’t know if he can go another second without those lips on his again. “Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Oh, because I really wanted to fall for my boss,” Dean shoots back. Cameron’s eyes snap to him. 

“Single dad falls for the babysitter?” Dean can’t tell if he’s joking or still mad at himself for the kiss. 

“It’s a porn classic,” Dean says. Cameron cracks a smile but it quickly vanishes to look pained. 

“We can’t do this,” Cameron says. 

“Why not?” There are a lot of reasons why not, but Dean doesn’t care about any of them right now. His heart is still racing in his chest. He can still taste Cameron in his mouth. He couldn’t care less about any reason why they can’t or shouldn’t. 

“Dean…” His name in Cameron’s mouth is everything. 

“Cameron…” he answers and sees that it has the same effect on him. 

Cameron pulls Dean back to him and kisses him again, but softer. His hand gently cups Dean’s face, their lips fitting together perfectly, tenderly. It only lasts a moment before they’re sucking, biting, kissing, pulling, gasping. 

Cameron lifts Dean, his hands on Dean’s ass as he wraps his legs around Cameron’s waist. Dean lets out a soft whimper, clinging to Cameron as he sucks at Dean’s neck and walks to the bedroom. Dean’s clothes fall to the floor as they go, leaving a trail behind them. He yanks Cameron’s shirt off, tossing that away just before Dean is dropped onto the bed. He kicks his boots off and lets Cameron pull his pants away, those perfect lips kissing his thighs. 

Dean sucks in a breath when Cameron takes him in his mouth. Dean’s hand tightens in Cameron’s hair. The other grips Cameron’s hand. Their fingers twine together and they hold each other tight as Cameron’s wet mouth slides up and down Dean’s stiff cock. His tongue does things that Dean has never felt before. He knows how to do this. He knows how to take Dean apart at the seams. 

“I want you,” Dean moans. Cameron stops and looks up at him. “Please, Cam.”

“Have you done this before?” Cameron asks. Dean nods, his hand leaving Cameron’s thick hair so he can move to the side table drawer and pull out a condom and lube. He tosses them on the bed and pulls his own pants off. 

He’s gorgeous. His skin is perfect. His body is toned but not thin, muscles rippling beneath his skin. And he is huge. Dean won’t be able to walk straight for a week, but who needs to? Dean watches Cameron roll the condom on. He pulls Cameron back down on top of him and kisses him hard, biting his lip. 

He feels Cameron rub the lube into him and sucks his tongue into his mouth. When Cameron pushes into him, he does it slowly. Dean moans into his mouth, relaxing himself to take all of him in. When they’re hip to hip, Cameron buried inside of Dean, he stops. Their lips still crash together, still starving for each other. Their hands remain locked, Dean’s hands pressed to the bed under Cameron’s weight. 

When Dean is ready, he moves his hips a little and Cameron slides out a little and back in. It’s slow and god, it feels good. Dean moans and Cameron’s mouth moves to Dean’s neck as he starts pumping faster, harder. AC/DC is still blasting loud enough to set the tempo of his movements. 

“Cam!” Dean moans loudly, hands tightening as he edges closer. Cameron thrusts harder. Dean spills over, his moaned ecstasy once again drowning in Cameron’s mouth. He sucks Cameron’s tongue into his mouth as he continues to whimper. His hips buck, unable to get enough. 

Cameron’s breaths are coming harder. He pulls most of the way out before thrusting hard all the way back in. Dean begs for more even if the begging is muffled by Cameron’s lips. He belongs to him. Dean wants to feel Cameron come. He knows he won’t have to wait much longer. 

Earth shattering thrusts finish them both. Dean feels Cameron shudder. Their foreheads press together as they gasp and moan. 

“Dean,” Cameron groans. Dean wishes there wasn’t a condom. He wants to feel Cameron filling him. 

“Cam,” Dean answers, just as breathless. Their hands untangle and Dean takes Cameron’s face in his hands, kissing him again, his thumb running over his stubbled jaw. 

They stay like that, kissing slowly, passionately, like lovers do after they’ve given themselves to each other. When Cameron pulls out, they separate enough for Dean to sit up. His own come is all over his stomach. Some of it is on Cameron too. 

Dean gets up and grabs his pants on the way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He flips on the light and wets a washcloth to wipe himself clean before dropping it into the hamper and pulling his pants on. Then he looks up and sees that Cameron’s bathroom is missing something. There’s no mirror. There’s not even a medicine cabinet without the door on it. There’s just a spot where a mirror used to be. His stomach drops. 

He’d read last night that televita don’t have reflections. They don’t show up in photographs. It’s the only way they’ve found so far to detect one. Cameron doesn’t have any pictures in the house and apparently no mirrors. But he can’t be. “No,” Dean breathes. 

Cameron’s workplace is at the center of every murder, at least one of the two people in each killing frequenting that office. He was gone on the Saturday that two more people had died. No photos. No mirrors. No reflections. 

“Dean?”

Dean draws his flare gun from his pocket and opens the door to the bathroom. “You’re a televita?” he asks, hearing the heartbreak in his own voice. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cameron puts his hands up. His hair is still a mess, his cheeks still flushed, and the room still smells of afternoon sex but he’s pulled his pants on too and the mood has shifted. “How…?”

“I’m a hunter. Tell me I’m wrong right now,” Dean says, voice shaking. 

“You’re not wrong, but Dean, I didn’t hurt anyone!” Cameron’s eyes flicker from Dean’s eyes to the gun. 

“All those murders in town have televita written all over them and you want me to believe you didn’t do it?” Dean’s surprised that as shaky as his voice is, his hands hold the gun steady. 

“I promise you I didn’t. I haven’t killed anyone since I was fifteen. Dean, please. You have to believe me.” Dean lowers the flare gun. “Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you just make me lower the gun?” Dean asks. He wants to go back to five minutes ago when they had been holding each other, kissing slowly, wrapped up in each other. 

“I only use that for small harmless things,” he says. “But I only use it because if I don’t, I’ll feel like I’m dying and I’ll need more than raw emotion to survive. I’m not killing anyone.”

“Then where were you on Saturday?” Dean asks. 

“One of my patients was involved in the murder,” Cameron says. He actually looks sad about it. Of course he would. He’s a decent person. He’s a good man who just wants to help people. But he’s a monster and John told them that monsters are bad. There is no such thing as a good monster… Is there? But Cameron is good. And Dean knows that Cameron is good. “Whoever is killing these people is trying to get to me because they’re either my patients or the relatives of my patients. I don’t know who it is or what they want, but I think it’s because of me.” 

“I believe you,” Dean says, pocketing his gun. There's no reason for him to believe him but he does. “I’m sorry.” He drags in a ragged breath and walks toward Cameron tentatively but Cameron only opens his arms to pull Dean against him. He closes his eyes and presses into him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Cameron whispers. “I can try to help you find who’s doing it, but I don’t know how to hunt quite like hunters do.” He kisses Dean’s shoulder gently. Dean turns his head and kisses Cameron’s neck. 

Monster or not, Dean has never felt like this before. He’s not giving him up. Not when he just got him. Cameron pulls back enough to kiss Dean’s lips. These kisses are different. Softer. They lay back down on the bed together, their legs tangling up as they cuddle and kiss, unwilling to let go now. 

“A monster and a hunter?” Cameron asks in a whisper as Dean kisses his throat. 

“I’m sure there’s porn about that,” Dean murmurs into him. Cameron laughs. “You have to go back to work.” 

“I do,” Cameron agrees sadly. 

“I know one way you can help me,” Dean says, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at Cameron. “Get me the files for the patients who were targeted. I can try drawing something up that leaves you out of it.” 

“I can do that.” Cameron kisses Dean’s nose. “Thank you.” 

“I’m fucked,” Dean says, letting himself fall to lie on his back next to Cameron. 

“Yeah,” Cameron sighs. “Me too.” 

He's never felt like this. He turns his face and looks at Cameron with his sharp nose and stubble beard. His perfect pink lips and hair made wild with help from Dean’s hands. He looks into his kind eyes. The ones that shine when he laughs. He’s not a monster. He’s just a little more than human. And it's a little more than a crush. 


	6. Chapter 6

Cameron had gone back to work with promises to explain things later. Dean had too many questions. The only one that Cameron had answered was that no, he didn’t know if Kayla was also a televita. He’d dressed, fixed his hair, and promised Dean answers before he’d kissed him goodbye and gone back to work. He’d kissed him goodbye like a boyfriend might. Dean had stood at the door, his fingers on his lips after he was gone. 

The rest of the day seemed to go too fast and too slow all at once. Dean had finished working on the car. Oil changes are something Dean could do in his sleep. The brakes only needed a new pad and that was easy enough. He picked up Kayla from school in the car because he’d realized he hadn’t left enough time to walk, but he figured Cameron probably wouldn’t care. Kayla had been amazed to find out that Dean could drive. Dean had checked the mirror to see if Kayla showed up. She did, her wide grin in the mirror as she let her hand fly out the window. Dean had even made a vegetable soup from a recipe in a book for dinner so it was ready by the time Cameron made it back home. 

Kayla is in bed now and Cameron comes outside to join Dean on the bench in the backyard. It had been hard to pretend that nothing had happened between them while Kayla asked how their days were. It was hard not to reach for his hand or kiss him when he’d come home. It was hard to pretend that he hadn’t had his clothes thrown all over this house and taken apart in Cameron’s bed just a few hours earlier. He doesn’t know what he is right now besides the babysitter. 

“Your questions,” Cameron says, handing Dean a mug of hot cocoa. They don’t bother with sitting as far as they can anymore. Their shoulders press together. If Cameron wasn’t holding his own mug of cocoa, he might even have his arm draped around Dean’s shoulders. 

“What are we?” slips out before any of the others. Cameron looks at him quickly, eyebrows raised, a slight smile appearing. With anyone else, he might be fine being the babysitter who gets fucked every now and then. Not with Cameron. He wants the casual kisses, cuddles after sex, date nights. He wants it all, his heart finally learning to be greedy. 

“What do you want to be?” Cameron asks.

“Yours,” Dean says strongly. “What do you want to be?” 

“Yours.” Cameron puts his hand, palm up, on Dean’s leg. Dean takes it and rests his head on Cameron’s shoulder for a moment in a non-hug hug thing. He lifts his head again and takes a sip of his drink. “Other questions?”

“How do you not know if Kayla is one or not?” Dean asks. 

“The gene develops with puberty. I didn’t know until I was thirteen. If nothing triggers it, the person never knows. Or maybe it skips generations.” Cameron shrugs. 

“You said you haven’t killed anyone since you were fifteen.”

“I know what it feels like to starve from not using…” His face screws up as he tries to think of a word to describe his powers. There’s not really a word for it that sounds less magical and more mundane. “I didn’t like using them. I felt like a freak and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t know I could feed on emotions in smaller doses. I didn’t know I could use it to make someone open a door or stop talking in the hallway to make it to class on time or something yet. My parents were dead. I was being abused at that hell of a foster home. I was starving.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what he means by starving and he doesn’t know what he did. Cameron looks like he’s in physical pain to remember that time in his life. Dean runs his thumb over Cameron’s gently. 

“The hunger is for someone’s life, their energy, their emotions. You can survive on emotions, you can even feel satisfied on them. But someone’s life force is a feast. Being around people who experience their emotions really strongly are a good way to stay satiated along with using it. But I wasn’t using it. I was going to die and I snapped.” Cameron takes a deep breath. “No one thought the wide-eyed fifteen year old kid had killed his foster parents so I was just relocated again. I figured it out after that and I promised myself I’d never hurt another person.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers. “That’s why the job?”

“I know it’s bad. I don’t like being the way I am. And I didn’t lie before. Dave had been a great therapist and he changed my life. He was good to his core. It feels good to help people. But yeah, I can’t survive on elementary school drama.” He laughs sadly and offers a half-smile but lets it fall, not wanting to lie to Dean maybe. 

“How do you use your…?” Dean shakes his head instead of saying powers. 

“Small things. Kayla’s private school fees before I could afford it.” Dean smiles a little at that. “I don’t need to talk to someone to do it. If I’ve met them, I can reach into their minds. I stop cops from giving tickets over speeding on my way to work sometimes. I stopped a guy from turning down an alley where drugs were being dealt so he wouldn’t be killed. Just little things that I think are good.”

“Wait, you don’t even have to be in the same room?” Dean asks.

“No. If I was mean, I could make a bank teller rob the entire bank from my office if I really wanted to,” Cameron says with a shrug. “Why?”

“That’s not in the lore.” That’s kind of important. The killer can do this from their bed if they’ve met the vic at least once. They’re more dangerous and invisible than Dean and his dad had originally thought. “Who would want to do this to you? Do you know any other televita?” 

“No. Unless I have some long lost relative who wants to get my attention.” Cameron sets down his empty mug and takes Dean’s for him. “I’m not going to lie. It’s a little weird that my boyfriend has books about my kind.”

“You’re the first I’ve had to look up the species of,” Dean smiles. “And don’t worry. I only read them when I’m in bed.”

“Sexy.” They both laugh and unclasp their hands to cuddle closer. “Do you think you’ll be able to catch them?” he asks, nuzzling against Dean’s cheek. 

“I have to. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here,” Dean promises, turning his face to kiss Cameron. He moves so he’s straddling Cameron on the bench. Their noses are pressed together, their breath mingling between them. 

“You really believe me?” Cameron breathes. His hands are gently cupping Dean’s face, his fingers in his hair. 

“Yes. And I will protect you. Do you believe me?” Dean asks quietly. 

“Yes.” Cameron seals it with a kiss. It was supposed to be innocent, but it quickly becomes anything but. Sloppy making out with only the sounds of their panted breaths and wet lips brings this backyard setting to an R rating. Cameron’s hands have found their way to Dean’s ass as Dean grinds against the bulge in his pants. They’re both hard. 

“Come on,” Cameron whispers. He nods toward the house and Dean gets off of him. He takes his hand and goes back inside, tunnel vision for the bedroom in full power.

They’re quiet as they practically run to Cameron’s room. The door is closed silently. Their clothes are ripped off and they slip between the sheets, using each other’s fingers and tongues to keep quiet. Dean flips over, face in the pillows, as Cameron rubs the lube onto him for the second time today. He relaxes as Cameron pushes in. He’s still a little sore from earlier, but he’s also still prepped from earlier. They don’t start as slow as they did this afternoon. 

“Mmmmph!” Dean groans into the pillows. His thrusts are hard and filling. Cameron reaches under Dean, his hand finding Dean’s stiff dick and pumping it in time with his own thrusts. “Fuck…”

“Shh,” Cameron reminds him, lips on his neck. Dean bites his own lip, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

“I’m going to come,” Dean warns him between harsh breaths. Cameron pulls out and flips Dean over, finishing him off with his mouth, sucking Dean to climax. Dean can feel him swallowing every rope as it comes. He sucks on Cameron’s fingers to keep from whimpering. 

When he’s finished, Dean pulls Cameron back on top of him. He slides back in and Dean rolls his hips against Cameron’s. His legs wrap around his hips, keeping him buried deep. They roll so Dean’s on top. Cameron’s hands on his hips guide him up and down. Dean rides him, his hands on Cameron’s chest, head thrown back as he pants. 

He slams down against Cameron and feels him swell that small amount as he comes. Cameron muffles his groan in the pillow, his face turned to the side. Dean lowers himself so he can kiss him. When Cameron finishes, he rolls them again, pinning Dean to the bed as he kisses him more. 

“I don’t wanna go,” Dean mumbles.

“Don’t go,” Cameron begs, bowing his head into Dean’s chest. “You have to.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean promises. “I finished working on the car, but maybe I can bring lunch for you tomorrow.”

“I’d love that.”

They each steal a few more kisses before Dean crawls out of bed and pulls his clothes on. He grabs the files Cameron brought for him and goes to the door. He looks back at the bed and sees Cameron sitting up in bed watching him. It’s dark, but somehow his eyes still shine. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Night, Cam.” 

Dean walks into the motel room and drops the files on his bed. He can research them tomorrow. Right now, he’s blissed out and… happy. He grabs a beer from the cooler and grabs the phone to check-in on Sam. 

“Hello?” Sam answers on the third ring. 

“Hey, nerd.” Dean kicks his shoes off and sits back on his bed. “How are those classes?”

“Better. I’m actually learning things now. They said these classes will look good on a college transcript…” Sam trails off. “Anyway. Any luck with the televita?”

“I found some stuff, but no luck catching one yet,” Dean says. He still doesn’t want to tell Sam about Cameron. Especially now. “Dad’s being Dad.”

“If I’m not back by midnight,” Sam says, forcing his voice to go deeper in a bad mockery of their dad’s voice. Dean laughs. 

“Yeah. He’s got a few hours before I’m supposed to head back your way. Not like I have the car. I guess I could take a taxi.” Or he could move Sam up here, get an apartment and a real job, date Cameron until they’re ready to move in together. Live as boyfriends together with a white picket fence. Make apple pies and have barbeques. Go to soccer games. 

“I have to go finish my homework and go to bed,” Sam says.

“Go to a party!” Dean yells into the phone as Sam hangs up on him. 

Dean has the tv on, his second beer in hand when his dad opens the door. Dean hides his beer, hoping he doesn’t notice. He turns off the tv but John is already mad. He looks from the tv to the side table where the first empty beer bottle is. 

“I was wondering how we haven’t found this thing yet,” John says. 

“I got the files and I found out more about televita today. Relax,” Dean says, though he’s anything but relaxed now. 

“And instead of working to actually catch the thing, you’re watching crap tv and drinking?” He folds his arms and gives Dean that parenting scolding look. As if he’s been a parent in the last fourteen years. 

“Like father like son, I guess,” Dean shoots back before he can stop himself. 

“What did you say?” John’s arms unfold and he looks pissed, but Dean’s just as mad. 

“Seriously? All you do is keep me sidelined while you try to work a case and get drunk every night, but I have one beer and  _ I’m _ the lush?” Dean shakes his head. “Fuck you.” 

John’s fist cracks across Dean’s nose. Pain bursts behind his eyes and he feels the blood drip into his hands as he cups his face. “We’re working to  _ save _ people, Dean. Get your head out of your ass and get back to work.”

“What are our leads? Huh?” Dean asks, blood dripping over his lips. His nose is definitely broken. “Where were you all day?”

“Stop acting like a child or I’m sending your ass back to Sam,” John threatens. He’d like to see him try. “The lead I thought I had didn’t check out.”

“Reflection?” Dean asks. 

“Yep.” 

And just like that, the fight is over. Fights between Dean and John usually end fairly quickly. The ones that don’t end up with him kicked out on his ass. Dean knows when to step back in line and shut his mouth. Sam will keep fighting for what he thinks is right. The difference is, Dean takes the hits for his fights and he takes the hits from Sam’s fights too. John has never hit Sam and Dean sticks around to be sure he never does. He can take a broken nose, bruised wrists, punches, slaps, shoves. But he’s been keeping his brother safe since he was four. He’ll do it until the day he dies. 

“Damn.” Dean goes to the bathroom and checks his nose as he wipes the blood up. It doesn’t need to be set so there’s no reason to make a quick trip to the hospital. A bruise is already starting just under his eyes. He sighs as he inspects it, gently pressing on his face to test where it hurts. The answer is: everywhere. His nose is the worst, but he winces with each gentle poke across his cheeks. “Well, do you want to hear what I found out or not?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean walks back into the room and sits down, filling his dad in on the things he learned from Cameron. On one hand, he wants his case finished so no more people have to die. On the other, as long as the case is open, he has to stay here. Stay with Cameron. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean’s nose is a little swollen and the bruise under his eyes is purple, but besides that, he’s fine. He doesn’t want Cameron or Kayla to see. He doesn’t know how he’d answer. He fell? He ran into a wall? He’s not about to tell a 7 year old that he got into a fight or that his dad was the one who threw the punch. He puts on his sunglasses and looks in the mirror. He looks like a douchebag but it’s the only thing he can do to hide the bruises. 

John is staying in today. He’s working on the files, trying to find a link between them without the knowledge that they all see Dr. Smith. “Be back at some point,” Dean says at the door. 

“Midnight,” his dad says, looking up from his notes. 

“Fine, midnight. Keys?” John tosses the car keys to Dean and goes back to work. Dean shuts the door and spins the keys on his finger as he walks over to the car he’s either going to inherit or he’s going to run away with. “Hey, Baby.” He slips behind the wheel and sighs with contentment. “Miss me?” He turns the keys and listens to her engine purr. It’s music to his ears as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward the café where he first met Cameron. 

The building where Cameron works feels like the center of the entire town. There’s a strip mall with a smoothie shop next to a laundromat. There’s a pizza place that has a note in the window that they will be closed for Thanksgiving. There’s a grocery store, a nail salon, and a drug store. People are going about their shopping, stopping for lunch, and meeting up with friends. 

Dean has a bag of bagels on the seat and two coffees in a cardboard holder. He parks and looks up at the gray building. The sign outside with the hospital’s name is cheerier, but damn does this place know how to make a concrete box. Dean grabs the lunch he’s starting to think is pitiful and starts toward the building. There’s a homeless man not far from the entrance with his sign over his head as he sleeps. He’s a veteran with holes in his shoes and jacket. Dean takes the five from his pocket and quietly adds it to the man’s cup before heading inside. 

“How may I help you?” a woman with bright makeup and a sweet smile asks. She didn’t get the memo that the 80s ended almost eight years ago. Her hair must have taken five bottles of hairspray to keep it up. 

“Just bringing Dr. Smith his lunch,” Dean says, flashing a smile and lifting the bag of bagels. 

She smiles kind of dreamily for a second, blushing a little under the pink powdered blush. Someone has a crush. “Floor four. I’ll let him know you’re here. Can I have a name?”

“Dean.” She picks up her phone and nods toward the elevator. He’s glad he doesn’t have to take it with anyone else. It’s not the kind of doctor’s office where sick patients come, but the idea of sharing the elevator with anyone sneezing makes his skin crawl. He can take out monsters any day, but germs? 

There’s a mirror in the top corner of the elevator. Dean glances up at his reflection who is still wearing the sunglasses indoors. He makes a face and turns around again. The elevator dings and the doors open to a waiting room. There’s a panel of buttons on one wall with the names of doctors beside them. They’re probably like doorbells. Dean wants to push all of them just to test it but decides that’s probably not a great idea and leaves it at pushing the one beside Dr. Cameron Smith. 

Dean still hasn’t told Cameron his name. He stares at Cameron’s as he thinks about the phoney one his dad gave him for this hunt. The door opens and Dean looks over at his boyfriend. 

“My name is Dean Winchester,” Dean blurts out. Cameron smiles. 

“Not a middle name, then?” he asks. He’s not mad. “Why are you wearing those?”

“It’s bright outside,” Dean says, following Cameron into a hallway that leads to the offices. They turn into the third room. The walls are painted a nice pale green that reminds Dean of Spring. The couch is white and has a small pine end table with a flower pot and tissue box on it. Opposite the couch is a matching white chair where Cameron probably sits. His desk is on the far side of the room surrounded by bookshelves, more flowers, and pictures of Kayla. 

“We’re not outside,” Cameron points out, sitting on the couch and opening the bag of bagels. Dean sits next to him and takes a sip of his coffee. The sunglasses actually hurt to rest on his nose the way they have been since he put them on, but the bruise makes it look worse than it is. 

“I guessed on the bagel. You strike me as a sesame seed type,” Dean says, trying to ignore and move past the issue of his sunglasses. 

“You’re wearing sunglasses indoors,” Cameron presses. “You know who wears sunglasses indoors?” 

“Blind people,” Dean says immediately.

“And douchebags,” Cameron says thoughtfully. Dean snorts a laugh, glad that he doesn’t have coffee in his mouth. “You’re neither. Why won’t you take them off?”

“Why is it a big deal?” Dean asks. The sunglasses had obviously been a mistake. Cameron reaches over and takes them off. It jostles his nose and Dean yelps, grabbing his face. 

“Dean…” Cameron is off the couch, on his knees in front of Dean. His hands are gentle as he takes Dean’s hands away from his face. “What happened? Who did this?” 

“I’m fine,” Dean lies. Cameron keeps Dean’s hands in one of his while the other brushes Dean’s cheek. “Cam, I’m fine.”

“Then tell me what happened.” His eyes are filled with concern. No one looks at Dean like this. When he used to show up at school with bruises, they assumed he’d gotten into a fight and they looked at him with scorn. When Sam would ask what happened, he assumed that the cuts and bruises were from hunts or pissed off drunks who Dean had hustled. John looked at him like nothing was different or out of place. No one showed concern. A few nurses and doctors had in the past, but it was different. There was nothing close to the look on Cameron’s face. 

“I was outta line.” Dean half-smiles but it’s more of a grimace. The crease between Cameron’s eyebrows deepens. 

“Your father hit you?” His voice is gentle but somehow still furious. Dean leans into his hand.

“I’m okay,” he says because the answer is obvious. He shouldn’t have to say it and he doesn’t. There’s a flash of anger but it’s too quick to catch. “Don’t.”

“You’re hurt.”

“This is nothing. I brought bagels.” Dean pulls away again and reaches into the bag that Cameron had abandoned on the couch. He holds the poppy seed bagel he’d bought for himself out to Cameron who hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor. He takes a reluctant bite before getting up and sitting back on the couch. “So, I figured it might be weird for you to keep paying me for the babysitting gig,” Dean says around his own bite. 

“Maybe,” Cameron agrees. “But you still need money, don’t you? Do you need an actual job? I can always find someone else to watch Kayla.” 

“I can hustle pool.” Dean shrugs. “I’d rather hang with Kayla. Besides, my dad thinks I’m a babysitter.” 

“Is that what hunters do?” Cameron laughs a little. He still sounds a little sad, but he’s making the effort to move past the groundbreaking discovery that John isn’t the nicest when there’s a disagreement. 

“No. Well, I don’t know. I’ve only ever really met like one other hunter and he’s got a scrapyard where he rebuilds old cars and does some repairs.” He hasn’t been there in a few years. Bobby always put away his hunting when he was looking after Sam and Dean. They’d gone to the park once to play catch. Dean can’t really remember what the fight had been about, but it was probably something insignificant if you judge it by John’s temper. “Dad gets by with check and credit card fraud.”

“Frank William Abagnale Jr.?” Cameron asks. Dean raises an eyebrow. “Catch Me If You Can?” Dean shakes his head. “There’s a copy on my bookshelf at home. Read it.”

“I finished Pirate. Anything like that one?” Dean asks, smirking. Cameron blushes and buries his face in his hands. 

“I knew I should have donated it when I finished it,” he groans. Dean laughs. “Do you always read cheesy romance?”

“No.” Dean shakes his head and thinks while he chews. He reads when he can’t sleep or he’s left alone for long enough. Everyone seems to think he’s too dumb to read, but it’s his favorite pastime. “Amityville. Cuckoo’s Nest. I like some Vonnegut, but his stuff gets weird.”

“And Fabio.”

“Sometimes Fabio.” They smile at each other, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, cream cheese and all. It’s goofy and adorable.  _ He’s _ goofy and adorable. Even though he’s all professional right now with his hair combed back and his shirt pressed. It dawns on Dean that they basically barely know each other. They skipped all of the first date things and jumped straight to the dark shit like Dean sometimes acts like a punching bag for his dad and that Cameron had been an abused foster kid growing up. 

“What’s on your mind?” Cameron asks as he grabs his coffee again, the bagel somehow already devoured. “I can see you thinking.”

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dean says. He’s never really had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He’s kissed more than a few and fucked a handful of those, but he’d never been in one place long enough. He’d never liked anyone enough to want to try. 

“I’d argue you know more about me than anyone else, but I know what you mean.” He sits back and thinks for a moment while Dean finishes eating and crumples up the wrapper. “My favorite color is that orange that the sky gets at sunset and sunrise. My favorite food has been the same since I was old enough to talk. Peanut butter and banana sandwich.”

“Okay, Elvis,” Dean laughs, grabbing his own coffee again. He wants to snuggle in close and rest against Cameron’s chest, feel his warmth envelop him, but he also wants to face him and memorize his face down to the last faint freckle. He settles for neither, remaining where he is. “Aren’t favorite colors for kids?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just a color that makes you feel at home. Makes you smile.” Dean imagines Cameron sitting up watching the sunrise, the dark sky all around him with the small bud of orange attempting to break through. 

“Then blue, I guess.” Dean spins the cup in his hands. “Or black.”

“Why?” When Dean looks over at him, he sees genuine interest. He self-consciously puts his hand on the couch between them. Cameron takes it without hesitation, his fingers lacing with Dean’s. 

“The only home I have is my car. She’s parked outside right now. Doesn’t matter what life throws at us. She’s always running. Her black paint is always perfect. I don’t let anything happen to her.” The words are defensive but his voice sounds soft, vulnerable. Cameron lifts Dean’s hand to his lips and presses a small kiss into his knuckles. “Blue because I see a lot of it, but I haven’t seen it all. The sky goes on for days, but the beach is unreachable.” He shrugs and lets Cameron pull him closer. 

“When’s your birthday?” he asks as Dean settles against his side. 

“Why?” They don’t celebrate birthdays. They haven’t for a long time. They gave up on them like they gave up on holidays. 

“So I can plan on taking you to the beach,” he says like it’s obvious. That anyone would think about actually taking Dean to the beach. 

“Sure. And then we can go to Disneyland.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs. 

“Why not?” He’s serious. “When?”

“January.” He turns and looks over his shoulder at Cameron. “The beach for my birthday. What and when for your birthday?”

Cameron steals a kiss that immediately heats Dean’s cheeks. “March.” The way he says it, softly with his lips barely an inch away from Dean’s, feels much more intimate than a birthday month. 

“Do you know how attractive you are?” Dean asks. 

“No, but thank you.” He kisses him again. “I haven’t seen my reflection in over a decade. I know I have brown hair. I started to forget what I looked like.”

“You have brown eyes,” Dean says. Cameron smiles. “You have to know you have a beard.” He nods as Dean runs a hand over the scruff. “You have freckles that are so faint they only show up after you’ve been in the sun.” 

“Nothing nearly as gorgeous as yours,” he interjects. Dean blushes again but keeps going. 

“You have a crease here when you’re worried or thinking,” Dean says, running his thumb over the space between Cameron’s brows. It makes him smile. Dean smiles back and moves his thumb to Cameron’s lips, tracing them gently. “And a perfect smile.” Cameron kisses the pad of his thumb before Dean replaces it with his own mouth. 

"I want to take you on a real date," Cameron murmurs. Dean pulls away enough to look him in the eye. "This Saturday?" 

"So, tomorrow? What are we doing?" Dean puts his coffee down on the side table and takes Cameron's for him. He doesn't want to admit that he's never been on a real date. Meeting up under the bleachers or sneaking into classrooms don't exactly count. 

"Want to go to the movies?" 

"Hell yeah," he grins. 

When Cameron kisses Dean again, they fit together perfectly. It’s easy to get tangled up, fingers gripping hair, chests pressed together, legs locking together. They lie down on the couch together, Cameron on top of Dean as they makeout. Cameron grinds his hips against Dean’s enough to get him to groan. Cameron’s tongue is in Dean’s mouth when there’s a loud buzz. 

“What was that?” Dean asks as Cameron scrambles off of him. 

“My next appointment.” He’s trying to fix his hair and clothes. Dean sits up and helps him, smoothing his hair back again, using his fingers as a comb. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later,” Dean promises, collecting the trash from their lunch. Cameron grins. He kisses him again quickly before opening the door and pointing for Dean to go one way while Cameron goes the other. Dean follows the hallway, dropping the bag and two coffee cups in the trashcan near a bathroom, and finds his way to the exit. It leads out to the same waiting room, but by the time he’s there, Cameron and the patient are both gone. 

Wishes for the future are dangerous when you’re a hunter. It’s why John is so hard on Sam about college. It’s also why having a boyfriend who wants to take him on dates and talks about being together months from now fills Dean with a kind of forbidden excitement. He wants a future with Cam. As he walks to his car, all he can do is wish for more. More dates. More kisses. More. 

It’s Friday, so when Dean picks Kayla up from school, he plans to head straight for a park or something. She can do her homework later while he makes burgers and fries from scratch. He’s always wanted to, but has never had the kitchen to actually do it. Honestly, he should be bored of burgers and fries now with how often they eat them, but somehow he still loves them. 

“What. Happened.” Kayla demands when she gets into the car. 

“Nice to see you too.” He turns to look into the backseat as she buckles her seatbelt, but she’s not moving, staring at his face instead like she’s ready to go into battle. 

“Did you get punched?” she asks. “I know a kid who got into a fight at school and he got punched in the nose and he had a bruise just like that. They both got suspended I think. Did you get in a fight?” 

“No. Fighting is bad.” It’s not a good enough answer for her, but she finally starts to put on her seatbelt. “I was defending someone and the bad guy punched me.” 

“So... a little bit in a fight,” she says. He sighs, unable to keep the smile from his face as he turns around to start driving.

“Where are we going? The park? Home?” He joins the line of cars waiting to get out of the school parking lot. It feels weird to have Kayla sitting in Sam’s spot in the back. 

“It’s too cold to go to the park,” she says wistfully. “Can we have nachos and play a board game?”

“Sounds good to me. What game?” 

Dean makes nachos while Kayla sets up the Sorry! None of that marshmallow nacho bullshit that Sam used to ask for. He makes the gooey cheese with only a little bit of spice. “Taste test,” he calls. Kayla drops everything and runs into the kitchen to eat from the spoon. 

“Perfect!” she finally declares, running back to the table. 

He bobs his head once in victory before reaching up to grab the chips. He pours them onto a platter and drizzles the cheese on top. Two dollops of guacamole on the edge of the plate, one of sour cream, and two rootbeer bottles tucked under his arm declares this snack ready. He walks back to the dining table where everything is set up. 

Board games aren’t something hunters can take on the road. Bobby only has board games like chess and checkers. His backgammon board has seen better days and most of the pieces are missing. It was easier to carry around a deck of cards or some dice. It feels like a hidden luxury to be able to sit down at a table with an entire board set up, colorful pieces poised to begin, and a 7 year old telling him how to play. 

“Sorry,” Dean says when his piece lands on a square her piece is already on. She bites her lip as she stares at the board. It’s not that big of a deal. She’s not close to the end yet. She puts on puppy dog eyes that would put Sam’s to shame. “No.”

“Maybe they can be friends?” she pleads. “And share?”

“No way. That’s against the rules!” She’s going to win if she keeps it up, but the only way he’ll go down is fighting. She doesn’t though, her face turning devious as she moves her piece back. “Are you plotting?”

“No.” She picks up her next card and moves a different piece. “I’m just planning your doom.” He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything as they continue to play. 

The “sorry”’s become less gentle and more brutal before becoming, “Ha! To jail!” from Kayla and, “Get off my lawn,” from Dean. They both laugh every time it happens. The nachos disappear not at all slowly. Kayla likes to clink the rootbeer bottles before every sip she takes, so Dean goes along with it, raising it and matching her drinking speed throughout the game. When it’s over, the nachos gone, the soda depleted, and Kayla announced as victor of the game, they cheer, but Dean wishes he could do this all the time. 

“I’m home!” Cameron calls. Kayla jumps up from the couch where she’s been reading her English homework aloud for the past twenty minutes. “Hey, munchkin,” Dean hears him greet Kayla. Dean looks up and meets Cameron’s eyes. He smiles and Cameron grins. 

Kayla starts telling him about her homework as he takes off his shoes and drops his things by the door. The phone rings and Kayla runs to go get it. “Hi, Mommy!” She looks up at Cameron. “For you.” 

“How does this keep happening? I get phone calls at my own house?” He takes the phone from her and shakes his head incredulously. “We need to get that fixed. Hello?”

“When’s dinner ready?” Kayla asks. It feels like a tornado landed in the middle of the Smith house. Not two minutes ago Kayla had been calmly doing her homework while Dean cooked. Now she’s half wrapped around him to peek into the pan and talking over Cameron as he talks to her mom. 

“Soon. Get outta here,” he laughs, pulling her away from him and shooing her. She giggles and comes back again, inhaling the burger smell this time. 

“But it smells so good and I’m so  _ hungry _ ,” she fake whines, still clinging to Dean. 

“It’ll take longer this way because I can’t move,” he says, pulling her off of him again. She laughs again and this time Cameron calls her away from the kitchen. 

Dean finishes up with the burgers and checks on the fries while they finish their phone call. He sets out the three plates with burgers and fries and a platter of toppings in the middle of the table. He grabs the glasses of water and napkins just as Cameron sets the phone back on its hook. 

“You’re going to have to eat quickly before it’s time to go,” Cameron says. 

“Thanks, Dean,” Kayla says as she plops into her seat. He hands her the ketchup because she already made it quite clear earlier that she only eats burgers plain with ketchup. 

“We’re getting spoiled,” Cameron laughs as he sits down across from Dean. “This smells amazing. Where did you learn how to cook?”

“I don’t know how to cook,” Dean scoffs. He cooks for himself and Sam sometimes, but it’s nothing great. He’s not used to this. He clenches his jaw and focuses on filling his burger. 

“I can already tell that’s not true. Thanks for cooking.” Dean glances up and smiles a little. 

This world, human or not, is everything he grew up knowing he couldn’t have. He’d had it once. He has vague memories from when he was maybe three or four and he had two parents who tucked him in at night and cut the crusts off his sandwiches. The yellow-eyed demon had taken away the hope for a life like that, but Cameron knows how to ignite once snuffed flames. 

John had told Dean that monsters were all bad. They didn’t have feelings. All they did was manipulate, lie, murder, and hurt. They were monsters. The word seems cruel and ill-fitting for Cameron. He can’t look at this man who thanks Dean for dinner, loves his daughter, puts his hands up when faced with a flare gun when he has the power to force his attacker to stop, and helps people in need and call him a monster. He’s a better person than John could ever hope to be. Dean shakes his head as he rids the thoughts from his mind. He won’t call Cameron a monster anymore. The term doesn’t apply. 

When Kayla finishes, she grabs her dishes and cleans them up, dropping them into the dishwasher after a quick rinse. She packs up her backpack louder than necessary. She’s still telling Cameron all about how she kicked Dean’s butt at Sorry! as she shoves her English book back into her bag. 

“Are you going to come to the bake sale tomorrow?” she asks suddenly. 

“I thought you and your mom were doing that?” Cameron asks, furrowing his brows. If everything goes according to plan, Cameron and Dean will be on their date tomorrow. 

“We are.” She pulls at her ponytail to make it tighter. “You’re not going to buy anything?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I can stop by to grab a brownie if you really, really want me to.” He glances at Dean with an apologetic look but Dean shrugs it off. 

“No. You’ll probably just embarrass me,” Kayla says as an afterthought. There’s a knock on the door and Kayla opens it before Cameron can tell her to wait. “Bye, Dad! Bye, Dean!” she calls over her shoulder. Dean only gets a glimpse of the woman at the door. Her blonde hair matches Kayla’s and it’s long. She looked a little like a hippie from the sixties with her faded jeans, flowy top, and long hair. But that’s all Dean had time to see before the door closed.

“Have fun,” Cameron says to the door with a slight eye roll. “I take it you two had fun?” 

“Never really played a board game before,” Dean admits. Cameron gets a soft look in his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “I grew up playing poker and pool. Soon I’ll be able to hustle Sorry! and Monopoly.”

“I grew up with marbles and solitaire,” Cameron laughs. “I’ll spare you having to see my marble collection, but we do have more games here.”

“Alright. Pick one. I’ll clean up.” Dean takes their dishes into the kitchen and cleans up their plates and what’s left of the pans before glancing up to see Cameron in the living room. He’s laying out a blanket next to the board game he has set up on the low coffee table. He smiles and walks in, kneeling next to the board. “What is this?”

“Risk.” 

They set up their pieces while Cameron explains the game but somehow they end up cuddling, Cameron’s arms around Dean as they play. It’s not very competitive with two people who keep stealing kisses and getting lost in conversation about anything and everything. Dean could listen to Cameron talk for days about his favorite Summer hiking spots and the concerts he’s been to. He could listen to Cameron read a phone book. They forget the game entirely once they realize how similar their taste in music is. 

“70s, man,” Dean grins. 

“60s wasn’t terrible either, but yeah. 70s.” 

Their cuddled embrace changes with the flow of conversation. They end up facing each other, game unfinished and forgotten as their legs cross each other’s. 

Cameron’s eyes light up when Dean talks about his life. It’s the first time that he’s been able to gush about hunting. He skips over school, but talks about Sam and how he used to be the kid who Dean had had to rush to the ER when he’d jumped off a roof to see if he could fly to being the honor student with his heart set on college. When he talks to Cameron, he feels like he could talk forever. 

“How old were you when you had your first kiss?” Dean asks. 

Cameron laughs. “Oh, god. Do I even remember my first kiss?” He rubs a hand over his face. “I must have been thirteen. Julie Whittaker planted one on me at the middle school dance.” 

“First boy kiss?” Dean asks. 

“Boy named Justin during P.E. class in junior year,” Cameron says. “Have you ever been in love?”

Dean swallows hard. “I don’t know…” he says slowly, letting himself trail off. His eyes meet Cameron’s and they’re both quiet for a moment. The answer would have been no last week. Cameron moves closer and kisses Dean gently. 

Their lips part together, sliding together to deepen the kiss. He can feel Cameron’s tongue against his bottom lip. His arms drape over Cameron’s shoulders as they pull each other closer. He can feel Cameron’s hands under his shirt, gripping his waist. Dean drowns in his kisses and lets his head tip back as Cameron’s mouth descends, lips against his throat. 

“Yes,” Dean breathes, holding him tight. Yes because the orange glow of the fire makes Dean think about favorite colors. Yes because he can see himself sharing a real life with the man in his arms. Yes because he loves the way it feels to sit here and talk about nothing and everything for minutes or hours. Yes because he can’t get enough of family dinners with Cam and Kayla. Yes because it’s the only word that makes sense when he’s looking at Cameron. 

“Yes, what?” Cameron asks, lips still against the hollow of Dean’s throat. 

“Yes, I’m in love,” Dean answers. He doesn’t know what to expect, but Cameron pulls away. He made a mistake. He swallows and wonders just how fast he can make it to the door before he has to hear the rejection. Before he hears that he’s too young or that it’s too soon. 

“I love you,” Cameron says softly before Dean can move. It feels heavier than what Dean’s seen in movies. He’s not just saying it. Dean grabs Cameron and pulls him back to him, kissing him harder. His arms around Cameron, his fingers tangle into his hair. 

Dean’s shirt is pulled off just before Cameron’s. Their hearts pound, beating tirelessly at their chests and begging to meet the other’s. Dean pants as Cameron pulls back enough to pull Dean’s jeans and boxers off. He watches him take off his own clothes before they collide again. He can feel their dicks rub against each other and lets out a small whimper. 

Dean reaches between them and strokes his hand over both of their cocks, fingers lingering longer on Cameron’s tip. Cameron moves his hips slowly, rubbing against Dean as he sucks on his bottom lip. Dean takes his hand away to spit into it before rubbing it into his ass. Cameron follows his lead and slicks his dick with his own spit, condoms out of reach and, frankly, unwanted. He pushes into Dean and they both groan, Dean automatically relaxing for him. 

Dean pumps his hand on his dick between them as Cameron rides him into the carpet, their moans joining for the best duet. “Cam!” Dean calls. He’s rewarded with more kisses, teeth scraping against his lip, the beard scratching at his chin. 

“Dean!” Cameron groans. 

He’s going to pull out but Dean stops him, grabbing him and shaking his head. “Please,” he begs, his breath ragged. He can tell his face is flushed. They’re both sweating enough to get that sheen. “Please,” he groans even as Cameron thrusts hard into him. 

They come almost at the same time. Cameron comes first. The feeling of him filling Dean is too good. He cries out, shuddering with Cam as they spill over together. They stay still for a moment, panting with their eyes locked. 

He pulls out slowly and Dean lets out a soft noise he wasn’t completely in control of. He doesn’t move as Cam lowers himself to lick the come off of Dean’s stomach and softening dick. When he’s done, he kisses back up Dean’s torso. 

“Stay here tonight,” Cameron says, pressing more kisses into Dean’s jaw and just under his ear. 

“Okay.” He lets out a soft, content sigh. “But I need to drop my car back off and should probably grab my toothbrush.” 

Cameron nuzzles into Dean’s neck. He could get used to this. “When do we leave?”


	8. Chapter 8

The parking lot is dark and cold. Dean tries not to look back over his shoulder at Cameron’s car where he’s parked at the farthest space. He grabs his key and opens the motel room. His dad glances up from the files and a handwritten list he has in front of him. 

“Anything?” John asks. 

“I was babysitting. Didn’t find much while learning second grade vocabulary,” Dean says as he goes into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and shove it into his pocket. 

“Good to know you’re finally taking your education seriously,” John jokes. Dean rolls his eyes. “I haven’t had dinner yet. Should we get pizza?” 

“I’m heading out. I won’t be back tonight,” Dean calls back, realizing there’s no way to pack an overnight bag without raising questions. 

“Bring a condom.” 

Dean makes a face. Gross. Also, little late. “Yeah.” He leaves the bathroom and tosses Baby’s keys onto his dad’s bed. 

“Have fun and don’t get her pregnant,” John says without looking up, back to scouring the list. Dean shakes his head and grabs the doorknob. “Oh!” He freezes. “Sam called.”

Shit. “What’s up?” 

“He doesn’t have school this week. If I don’t figure this out tonight, can you drive down and get him on Sunday before he wastes all his money on a taxi?” His dad looks tired. Judging by the list and the circles and arrows all over the pages in front of him, he’s been busy all day. He wipes a hand over his face and looks back at Dean.

“Yeah.” He glances at the door, hoping Cameron isn’t worried that it’s taking longer than the two seconds Dean had promised him. “Get some pizza and go to bed. You look like hell.” 

“Yeah. Get outta here.” He waves his hand and Dean leaves. 

His heart slams in his chest as he crosses the parking lot to the other Impala. Cameron’s eyes are set on the motel room door. Dean can feel his anger from outside of the car. He’d promised to stay in the car and to not do anything. It’s easier said than done apparently. Dean opens the passenger door and slips into his seat.

“Are you okay?” Cameron asks as soon as the door closes, his eyes searching for any new marks, signs of anything, any reason to go charging into that room. 

“I’m fine. I have to pick Sammy up on Sunday. He doesn’t have school this week for some reason.” Dean shrugs. 

“Kayla gets out early on Tuesday and doesn’t have school for the rest of the week for Thanksgiving. Office is closed on Wednesday and Thursday for me too,” he says as he starts the car. Dean forgot Thanksgiving was happening. Why the fuck would Sam want to come here for Thanksgiving? He has a better chance at having a good holiday if he stays there and goes to some girl’s house or even just stays in by himself. He probably just wants to work on the case since they haven’t managed to do anything with it yet. 

“Oh.” He shifts awkwardly and plays with the volume knob on the radio. He wants to ask Cameron to come with him to pick Sam up but then how would he explain who Cameron is to Sam? Those would be awkward introductions. Still… 

“Don’t tell me you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” Cameron says, glancing from the road to Dean and back. Dean smiles a little and shakes his head. “Christmas? Yule? Kwanza? Halloween?”

“Ah! Halloween, I love. My brother… not so much,” he says. Cameron glances at him again. “I celebrate two holidays. Halloween and Valentine’s Day.”

“You don’t strike me as the hopeless romantic type.” They pass the grocery store where Cameron had dropped Dean off after the soccer game last Saturday. 

“Chocolate is the underlying motive here,” Dean says. He leaves out that Valentine’s Day is the easiest day of the year to pick up chicks. They’re either desperate for a date or just got dumped and need a quick rebound. He hopes this year will be different. He could get behind buying into the whole chocolate and roses for his sweetheart thing. 

“So, you’re not doing anything on Thursday?” Cameron asks. It sounds like a hesitant invitation. Neither of them know what to do. They’re dating, but no one knows. Dean would have to explain it away without letting his dad know. But what would Cameron say? Would he tell the rest of his family, including Kayla, that he’s dating Dean? Or would he be there as a friend? The new babysitter? 

“No,” Dean finally answers. “Are you?”

“We have a small celebration. Jenny, Kayla, and I get together at my place for a small thing. Sometimes Jenny’s parents come but they’re not this year. Her dad just had an operation so he won’t be ready for travel anytime soon.” Cameron’s life feels like an exhibit behind a glass to Dean. He’s a kid in the candy shop window with his face pressed against the glass. “You could come and we could tell them. If you’re ready.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Dean says. “I’ve never had a girlfriend either. I don’t know when I’m supposed to meet the family or say I love you or admit that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

“I don’t date either,” Cameron says with a small laugh. “But I’m still pretty sure that most things about us is unconventional. You don’t have to come.”

“I want to.” If he can get away from his own family without a fight. “Who won at Risk?”

“You made an alliance with the only other person playing,” Cameron points out. “So, technically both of us in an insane turn of events. Usually, there’s more fighting.”

“We conquered the world on our first date?” Dean asks. “Awesome.” 

“Talk about a power couple,” Cameron laughs as he parks in the garage. He cuts the engine and the fact that Dean is staying the night finally seems to sink in for both of them. Dean looks toward the door that leads to the house. “Not too late to back out.”

“Kinda is,” Dean says. He looks back at Cameron and offers a half-smile before getting out of the car. They head inside and ditch their shoes. Dean heads to Cameron’s bathroom to drop his toothbrush in the holder. It’s strange that this place already feels comfortable for him. 

When he gets back out to the living room, Cameron is in the kitchen looking for drinks. “Want something?” he offers, though it looks like he can’t even decide what he wants. 

“Have any beer?” Dean asks. Cameron looks up at him and furrows his brows. 

“I do.” He grabs two and opens them. “Aren’t you a little young?”

“Tell me you didn’t start drinking before you were 21,” Dean dares him. 

“Touché.” They clink their bottles before taking their first sips and going to the couch. 

“Besides,” Dean continues, “I have about ten fake IDs that say I’m older.” 

“I never needed a fake ID. I could just get someone to buy me drinks or serve me regardless,” Cameron says with a small smile. They sit on the couch together, looking into the empty fireplace. Cameron’s arm is around Dean, holding him against his side and it feels perfect. 

“That would be so useful on cases,” Dean sighs. “Ever think about becoming a hunter?” he jokes. It feels hollow. The hunting life isn’t one he would want anywhere near Cameron. It’s a guarantee of being in danger every moment. It’s a promise of a short life. And it’s nearly impossible to leave. 

“I thought it was an exclusive club that monsters couldn’t get into.” He kisses the top of Dean’s head gently before taking another sip of his beer. Dean leans into every touch. He loves being held, kissed, caressed. 

“It’s a fucked up club.” He wants to roll his eyes at himself when he thinks that right now is the time to unlock his tragic backstory. But, it might be the time to tell him about everything. “You might even fit the bill. Everyone who’s in seems to get their invitation with some sob story.”

“Oh? I thought you didn’t know any other hunters?” 

“I know something happened to Bobby. I just don’t know what. And I know what Dad tells me. He meets and works with other hunters sometimes. He did more when we were too little to help. I tried proving I could help by making a sawed-off when I was twelve.” He laughs a little. He doesn’t know what happened to that thing, but he’d been damn proud of it. “And I know our story.” Cameron waits, hugging Dean a little tighter. “The short version is that Mom died and Dad lost it.”

“And the long version?”

“Something killed Mom. She went to check on Sammy and Dad found her burning on the ceiling. He says a demon did it. I believe him, but I don’t have anything else to believe so why wouldn’t I? I know that the house was burning and the air was filled with smoke and I was running with Sam in my arms. Then we were jumping from motel to motel to hunt down the son of a bitch that did it. News flash: we haven’t found him. Not even close. So we end up hunting other monsters along the way. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we  _ do _ find it.” 

“Do you like being a hunter?” Dean twists to look at him. He looks interested in everything he’s hearing. Dean isn’t the one people listen to. He’s the one who takes the shot and stands aside. No one cares what he has to say. 

“I don’t know any other way to be.” 

“I think you do,” Cameron says softly. “You didn’t shoot me. Anyone else would have.” He traces Dean’s lip with his thumb and Dean kisses it before biting gently. In one smooth movement, Cameron’s hand moves to cup Dean’s face as their mouths come together again. 

Neither of them are even halfway through their drinks, but already they’re being abandoned on the coffee table as Cameron pulls Dean into his lap and sucks his neck, his hands roaming over Dean’s body. His lips light fires inside Dean. They turn Dean to a whimpering, aching mess, his hands tight on whichever part of Cameron he can grab. 

“You’re more than a hunter,” Cameron murmurs into Dean’s neck. Dean moans in response, words failing him. “You’re smart, lovable, handsome, delicious…” There are kisses between each word and Dean is hanging onto them, the sound of them, the feel of the words against his skin. 

Dean wraps himself around his boyfriend as he’s lifted. He ducks his face and steals a kiss, using it to tilt Cameron’s face back up. He swallows the soft sounds he makes as they stumble down the hallway. Cameron reaches for the door to his room blindly, laughter mixing with their kisses. 

By the time they make it to the bed, most of their clothes are off. Cameron pulls off the remainders once Dean’s sprawled on the bed. He climbs on top of Dean again, their lips crashing together, fingers lacing and tightening. 

When Cameron reaches for a condom, Dean grabs his wrist. “Don’t,” he pleads. “We didn’t earlier.”

“We probably should have.” Dean lifts his head from the bed to kiss Cameron’s shoulder. 

“I’m clean,” he says. He was tested after his last encounter months ago. Even then, he doesn’t ever go without wrapping up first. Except for once. With Cameron. 

“Me too.” He hesitates before tossing the condom back in the drawer. 

“Do you know how good it feels to have you come inside of me?” Dean asks. Cameron laughs and shakes his head. “Too good. I’m not letting that go.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” he teases, kissing Dean’s neck and biting gently. His mouth is hot and his teeth scraping against Dean’s skin takes his breath away. He tilts his head back and groans when Cameron sucks the perfect spot. 

“Yes,” Dean breathes. “Now, take me.” 

He’s never really done the whole same partner more than once thing. Certainly not over many days. And definitely not multiple times over the span of about two hours. 

They fit together better than puzzle pieces. Cameron yanks Dean’s legs off the bed and thrusts into him as Dean’s legs rest on his shoulders. Cameron is standing, but he leans into Dean, bending him in half and pushing deeper. Dean moans and clings to the sheets. He’d grab onto Cameron’s arms but one is occupied, his hand moving to Dean’s throbbing dick. 

“Fuck,” Dean whimpers when Cameron’s hand starts working him. 

Dean lowers his legs and hugs them around Cameron’s hips, pulling him closer to kiss him. It’s sloppy, tongues meeting between their heavy breaths. Dean bites and pulls Cameron’s lower lip as he moans, “Dean!” 

He buries his face in Dean’s shoulder as he shudders. Dean feels his release and lets out a shaky breath. His heart hammers wildly, but there’s no time to come down from it. Cameron pulls out before he’s even begun to go soft and lowers himself between Dean’s legs. He licks up Dean’s shaft slowly, pulling a groan from Dean as he swirls his tongue around his tip. Dean runs his fingers into his hair and takes a fistful, quivering under his mouth. 

Cameron’s name falls from Dean’s mouth as he comes, every drop sucked and swallowed. Ecstasy can’t touch what Dean’s feeling right now. His chest heaves, his hands relax, and he looks down into his boyfriend’s gleaming brown eyes and smiles a wobbly smile. 

“I need a minute before I can walk,” Dean says, letting his head fall back again. He hears Cameron laugh softly before he joins him on the bed, wrapping himself around Dean and nuzzling into him. “God.”

“Close. My name is Cameron.”

“Shut up,” Dean laughs, turning into him, their noses and foreheads touching. 

“For you?” Cameron kisses him gently. “Never.”

“Good.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean wakes up slowly. He’s completely naked and pressed against his also very naked boyfriend. He might not ever get tired of calling him that, even if he only ever thinks it rather than says it out loud. Cameron is just starting to stir. His curtains are pulled closed, but sunlight is starting to peek in at the edges. It feels calm. 

“Good morning,” Cameron says, sleep making his voice a little scratchy. 

“Mornin’,” Dean mumbles back. 

Dean doesn’t remember when they finally went to sleep. Sure, coming into the room started with tearing each other’s clothes off and fucking each other into oblivion, but then they cuddled, nuzzled, and kissed. They whispered and laughed and talked until maybe one or two in the morning. They’d drifted off, comfortable and happy in each other’s arms. And they’re waking up just the same. 

“You don’t want to kiss me,” Dean groans, turning his face away from Cameron and burying it in the pillows. 

“I always want to kiss you,” Cameron protests. Dean laughs, the sounds muffled. 

“Even with morning breath?” Dean asks, peaking back up at him with one eye. 

“Gross, nevermind,” he scoffs with a grin. Dean turns his face and accepts the kisses, morning breath and all. “Breakfast and then we can get ready for the day?”

“I love breakfast,” Dean says, though he doesn’t move from his spot on the bed. Cameron smiles at him from beside the bed before finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on. Dean sits up and watches as he stoops to grab Dean’s boxers that had been flung across the room. He tosses them onto the bed and Dean grabs them, yanking them on. 

“Coffee…” Cameron grabs a sweater and pulls it on. It’s too big for him but it looks warm and cozy. “There’s sweaters in that drawer or my robe is hanging in there.” He gestures toward the closet vaguely. Dean hadn’t noticed while they were still in bed, but Cameron’s hair is sticking up in almost every direction. It’s adorable and makes Dean’s stomach flip. 

Dean goes to the closet and grabs a fuzzy gray robe. There are suits, a tie rack, and jackets hanging from the pole. A shoe rack with shined black dress shoes sits on the floor beside a few unmarked boxes. Dean itches to peak inside the boxes but closes the door and shrugs the robe on instead. 

He walks out to the main room and curls up inside his robe on the couch, turned so he can look into the kitchen. Cameron glances up and smiles. “I don’t know what to make,” he confesses, looking back into the kitchen. “I can either try to show off my limited culinary skills and serve up a hot breakfast or pour two bowls of Lucky Charms and cuddle with you on the couch.”

“Second one,” Dean says. 

“A man after my own heart.” Cameron grabs the bowls and brings them to the couch. The coffee maker is still working on heating the water. 

“What movie are we going to see today?” Dean asks around a mouthful of cereal. 

“Gattaca. Unless science fiction futuristic romance isn’t your thing.” He spoons two normal cereal bits onto his spoon to accompany the rainbow marshmallow like he’s thought about the ratio a great deal and has it down to a science. 

He’s seen the trailer for it on tv once or twice. It looks good and like a pretty good break from hunting monsters. Dean likes a good slasher or horror movie as much as the next guy, but sometimes it’s nice to take a break from the things that go bump in the night. Especially here with Cameron where he’s been pushing hunting further and further from his list of things to do. He could escape hunting altogether. It’s the first time in his life that he’s dared to think something like that. Before now, he’d  _ known _ he would live and die a hunter, but now he can see the glimmer of an exit sign. 

“Earth to Dean,” Cameron says softly. 

“Sorry. Yeah. Sounds great.” He takes another bite of his cereal.

“Where were you?” Cameron asks as he gets up to grab the coffee. 

“The future,” Dean says, scooting the two to one ratio of cereal onto his spoon and trying it. Not bad, but it’s too small of a bite. “Apple pies. White picket fence.”

“Mowing the lawn too early on Saturday.” Cameron has a mug that says #1 Dad and hands Dean the one with Superman on it. They sit curled up on the couch facing each other while Dean thinks. 

“But getting out is impossible.” It feels forbidden to be talking about trying to leave the life. Like it’s dangerous in and of itself. 

“There’s no reason you can’t have both…” They’re both quiet for a moment, inhaling their coffee steam as their eyes remain locked. 

Could he have both? Could he go on hunts to save people and still come home at the end of the day? Could his hunt be just another work day that he talks about at the dinner table when Cameron or Kayla asks? Not that this is home. Not that he lives here. Not that somehow, Cameron has the stockpile of keys to get into Dean’s heart all safely protected within his own. 

“Why’re we even talking about this?” Dean asks all of the sudden. Cameron raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t talk about this stuff. He doesn’t even let himself think about this stuff. 

“It’s okay to want things, Dean,” Cam says into his coffee. Dean nods, torn between believing Cam or John. It’s all he’s ever known, but he’d rather believe Cameron. 

After breakfast, they brush their teeth over the same sink, but they face each other, Cameron mimicking Dean’s facial expressions to pretend to be his mirror. Dean keeps making more and more ridiculous faces for Cameron to copy. 

He spits into the sink, laughing. “I am  _ trying _ to brush my teeth,” Cameron says incredulously. 

“You started it,” Dean says around his toothbrush. He spits and rinses his mouth before taking the mouthwash Cam hands him. He gargles, looking up at the ceiling while he sings through the minty freshness. He feels Cameron watching him and looks over at him, smiling with his mouth still wide. 

“This is the weirdest best morning I’ve ever had,” Cameron says, laughing softly. “Are you always like this?” Dean gurgles in response before spitting into the sink again. He’s less happy than this on normal mornings. 

They don’t talk about it, but when Cameron turns on the shower, they both shed what little amount of clothing they’re wearing and step into the hot water. Soap has never been more than soap. It’s clean and bubbly and usually smells good. It’s never been made filthy. Shampoo foams in Cameron’s hair under Dean’s fingers. He spikes it into a mohawk and admires his work for less than a second before he pulls Cameron’s face to his to kiss him and bite his lip. He can feel Cameron’s soapy hands working shampoo into his hair as their kiss starts to become heavier. 

And to think that in another shower not long ago, Dean had been trying to convince himself that all he needed to do was jack off to get his intense want for Cameron out of his system. Now he’s drowning in him, pinned to the wall of his shower by Cameron. 

“Later,” Cam says, pulling away, his shampoo washing out of his hair as he steps back into the rush of water. “I don’t want to slip and die in the shower. Shower sex is complicated.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Dean says, stepping into the water with him and pressing close. Cameron trails a finger down Dean’s arm. He takes the smallest amount of soap, enough to make skin slippery, and wraps his hand around their two cocks. 

The shower fills with their shared gasps and moans. Cameron’s arm braces against the wall. Water crashes down on them as their lips remain locked. And soap becomes filthy. 

Cameron had tossed Dean the keys to the car. He wasn’t about to argue. He loves driving. Even though it isn’t his baby, Dean feels perfect behind the wheel of Cameron’s Impala. It helps that his morning was perfect and he’s wearing his boyfriend’s clothes. He’d never given a second thought to novelty socks before, but that’s all Cameron owns. Dean had grabbed a pair with lightning bolts all over them to go with the AC/DC tee even. Cam’s weekend clothes are simple. Jeans and t-shirts for both of them and they’re set. Cameron even has a god awful knit sweater that’s brown and blue striped, but somehow he pulls it off. Dean can’t wait for ‘90s fashion to end. 

“Oo, I like that car,” Cameron says, pointing to an ancient Simca 8. Looks like a 1940. “How good would I look driving that thing around?” 

“More upkeep than an 85 Impala,” Dean warns him.

“Good thing I have a mechanic boyfriend.” Cameron winks and Dean feels himself blush. As they pull up to the stoplight, Cameron leans down and grabs a water bottle from under the seat. “Roll down your window. I know him.” He gestures to the homeless man at the corner. 

Dean takes the water and rolls down his window. The man walks over, lowering his sign. “Hey, Dr. Smith,” the man says. 

“Hey, Roger,” Cameron calls across Dean. 

“Want some water?” Dean asks, holding out the bottle. 

“Thank you.” He takes the water and uncaps it immediately. 

“Are you warm enough?” Cameron asks. Dean glances up at the light. “I can come back later with socks or gloves if you need.”

“I’m okay. Still have the last ones. Thanks, doc.” He smiles a little and the light turns green. Dean rolls his window back up as he starts to drive again. Dean figures he was probably an old patient if he calls him doc rather than his name. 

The movie theater isn’t hard to spot. The parking lot is mostly full and there’s a billboard out front with the movies that are currently playing. Dean scans the rows of cars to make sure his dad isn’t randomly going to a movie today of all days. He doesn’t know what would happen if they ran into him. 

“What’re you looking for?” Cameron asks as they pass a few empty spots. 

“I’m just making sure…” he answers, eyes still scanning. When he determines that none of the cars belong to his dad, he pulls into the nearest spot and cuts the engine. “Your family might be cool with it, but my dad isn’t.”

Cameron nods, no further questions. It’s not so hard to imagine a homophobic family rather than an accepting one given what Dean’s told Cameron about his family. They get out of the car and walk toward the theater with some distance between them. Dean wants to reach out and take his hand, but it’s not a good idea. Not until they’re in the dark. Cameron seems to be having the same thoughts, his shoulder brushing Dean’s but his fingers curling into his palm instead of allowing their fingers to interlock. 

While Cameron buys the tickets, Dean looks around at everything. The carpets are bright, the posters on the walls tease new movies and remind everyone of old classics. The candy counter is lit up bright, the popcorn machine seemingly the star of the show aside from the soda fountain. There are tables for people to sit and chat in the lobby like people actually come here just to hang out. No one sits there, of course. Everyone is too busy watching their movies or buying their concessions. It’s just another place that seemed untouchable once. Hunters don’t have downtime. When they do, it’s spent looking for a new case or replenishing their stash of ammunition. Maybe other hunters do. But not the Winchesters. They have a demon to catch. They can’t waste time watching movies in theaters. 

Dean goes to the candy counter and pulls out his wallet as he orders one large soda and some peanut M&Ms. He puts the money on the counter while a teen with bulky braces fills the soda. Cameron comes up behind him and hands him his ticket. His hand rests on Dean’s lower back for a moment, lingering long enough for Dean to move closer to him. 

“I figured we could share,” Dean says quietly as he takes the soda. Cam goes to the bar that holds the straws, napkins, and random other extras people might need for their treats and grabs two straws. It reminds Dean of those movies. Couples at diners with two straws in their milkshakes, heart-eyes on full display. 

“Theater six,” Cam reads from his ticket. It’s down a hallway. Each door has a little number hanging over it and a giant poster of the number plastered on it. It’s a little overkill, but whatever. They walk down the hallway a little before Cameron looks over his shoulder to check for anyone before he takes Dean’s hand. 

He wonders how much of the movie he’s actually going to end up watching. 

As far as first dates go, Dean is pretty sure he hit the jackpot. He’d already known that his date in question was the best, but everything else is perfect too. The movie was fantastic. There was murder, fucked up dystopian themes, romance, and heartbreak. They’d managed to watch most of it. Their hands had remained locked. Every now and then they’d kiss in the dark, passing M&M’s with their tongues. And before the movie had started, they’d sipped from their soda at the same time, trying not to laugh as they looked into each other’s gleeful eyes. 

Neither of them want to bother with other people today so they'd decided on a carry-out pizza. Dean is sitting in the car, singing Metallica along with the radio while he people watches. He tells himself he’s not hunting, but he can’t help it. He was trained to always be vigilant, especially when he’s alone. There’s a couple in the parking lot arguing over the toppings on their shared pizza. There’s a family with a stack of boxes, rushing to their minivan like they’re all racing. Getting out of a truck nearby is a woman with bright makeup and overdone hair. How is the receptionist here? 

Dean ducks down in his seat, watching her as she walks into the pizza place. Her face lights up when she sees Cameron and Dean’s eyes narrow. He’s not jealous. He knows that Cameron isn’t interested and he trusts Cameron more than anyone else in his life. But he doesn’t trust her. 

The receptionist orders and stands with Cameron, chatting while they wait. Their pizza should be ready soon and Cameron can get outta there. Cam’s eyes dart to Dean quickly and the woman turns her head. She sees Dean in the car and her mouth pinches. Dean feels like he’s won a little bit. He watches as his boyfriend grabs their pizza and barely waves goodbye as he leaves, returning to his car. Returning to Dean. 

“That smells delicious,” Dean groans as he starts the car. “Do we have to wait till we get—” He almost says home. “...Back?” 

“Hell no.” Cameron opens the box and lifts a slice to Dean’s mouth. He takes a bite and grins. 

“You’re seriously going to feed me while I take the five minute drive back to your house?” Dean asks. Cameron takes a bite from the same slice before offering it to Dean again. 

“Yes.” 

“Take me now,” Dean jokes around another bite. Cameron laughs. 

The drive really isn’t that long. Cameron must have bought his house based on its proximity to literally everything in town. Everything seems to be within walking distance so driving just makes it that much quicker. Once they’re inside, Cameron grabs two beers and settles with Dean on the couch. Their legs are tangled together with the pizza box balanced on them. 

“Okay, but what happens when this hunt is over?” Dean asks. 

“You call me from whatever motel you end up at?” Cameron shrugs. They’ve touched on the idea over the past few nights, but they never finished the conversation. Neither of them want this to end, but the killings have to stop and that means the case has to end eventually. “You could come visit whenever…” 

“I want to stay here,” Dean groans. “I know it’s bad, but I haven’t exactly been doing the best work on this case because the longer it takes, the longer I get to stay here. It’s not like there are new victims every night anyway. We have time between each killing…” He’s trying to rationalize how little he’s been doing but he doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or Cam. 

“I want you to stay here too…” Cameron picks at the crust of his pizza idly. “But it could work.”

“What? Calling you every chance I get and trying to come here after every hunt?” It could work. He might have to steal a car or have Cameron pick him up if they’re close enough, but it’s not impossible. Cameron just nods. “What if it’s not enough?”

“What do you mean?” It’s a heavy conversation for the nearing end of their first date, but it has to happen because he doesn’t want it to be the last one. 

“What if…” What if he can’t take it and leaves hunting, leaves everything he’s known for the past fourteen years of his life? Where would he go? What if it’s too much and Cameron breaks it off? Dean doesn’t want to imagine his own heart breaking. He’s never been this open with someone. He’s never actually fallen in love before. He can’t lose this. 

“I’ll be here,” Cameron says, reaching out and taking Dean’s hand. He knows televita can’t read minds, but it feels like he can. “We can do this. Besides, the case isn’t over yet.”

“I should probably actually try to solve it,” Dean sighs. “What are we doing this week?”

“I have work and no kid until Thursday.” He smiles and moves the half-empty pizza box away from them so he can pull Dean into his arms. Dean goes willingly, turning so he can lay between his boyfriend’s legs, head on his chest, and lace their fingers together over his heart. 

“Lunch?” Dean asks. He plans on spending every moment he can with Cam. He leans into the kiss that’s pressed to the top of his head. 

“And dinner?” Cameron whispers, the words half muffled by Dean’s hair. 

“And dinner,” Dean agrees, grinning. 

Dean has to force himself to leave. He doesn’t want to go. There’s already going to be questions about why he’s been out so long. He’ll get a lecture on how they’re here to hunt and he’ll be put to work. Hopefully, that’s all that will happen. Cameron drives Dean to the motel but parks around the corner. 

“I’ll call when I get to Sam,” Dean says. “But I won’t be able to come see you tomorrow.” They kiss and when it breaks, Dean bites his own lip, resting his forehead against Cam’s.

“Monday.” They kiss again and Dean breathes him in, pressing as close as he can. “You have to go,” Cam groans into Dean’s mouth. 

“Fuck.” They untangle themselves and Dean takes a breath. He grabs the door handle but Cameron pulls him back. It’s more like they’re saying goodbye before Dean goes to war than just going back to a dingy motel room to go to work. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” Cameron says, letting go of Dean reluctantly. 

“See you Monday.” 

“I love you,” Cameron says as Dean gets out of the car. His stomach flips. Is this what they do? They kiss like their lives depend on it, ache when they’re apart, and remind each other that they love each other when they have to part? 

“I love you too,” he says softer than he means to. He closes the door and walks up the sidewalk to get to the motel. He turns the corner and sighs when he sees his motel room. He walks past Baby, trailing his finger over her door handle with no intention behind it. 

“Hey,” John says without looking up when Dean walks in. 

“Hey. Any news?” he asks, dropping his key on the table and walking over to his bed. 

“All of these patients have one doctor in common. I think he may be the actual target,” John says, passing Dean pages of notes and the files Cameron had given him. “You’ve been babysitting for him. Anyone close to him who might want to hurt him?”

“Everyone seems to love the guy,” Dean sighs. “But, he is a therapist. Maybe one of his past patients isn’t doing so great? Are there any that haven’t been to see him in awhile?”

“A few.” His dad sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Who else might? Angry ex? PTA mom?” 

“His ex isn’t angry,” Dean says, though he wants to correct him. Jenny isn’t even an ex. They're best friends who slept together once a million years ago. She was just a free spirit and he was determined not to date anyone, hating himself for being a televita. “I can look into any school people on Monday when they’re open.”

“When they’re open?” John screws up his face. They aren’t the kind of people who wait for a door to be opened. They have lockpicks and bobby pins for a reason. They go at night when places are locked up. No witnesses and no one gets hurt. 

“They know me. I can get into the right room easy,” Dean shrugs. 

“You’re not that cute,” John says. Dean huffs. 

“I think I’m adorable,” he deadpans, grabbing the files. “I also think it’s a past patient.” It’s a hunch. He hasn’t met anyone from the PTA. He doesn’t know that none of them are pissed at Cameron, but something tells him it has nothing to do with the school. “Or someone he works with,” he says slowly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s other doctors there. And a receptionist. C— Dr. Smith could have stolen a patient from someone else. Any transfers?” Dean asks, thumbing through the files, trying to ignore that he almost said Cam in front of his dad. 

Dean starts in on the notes, crossing out the ones that don’t lead anywhere, adding ones in the margins, and passing pages back and forth as he works. Classic rock plays on the radio, but neither of them are really listening anymore, too busy trying to narrow down their lists to potential murderers now that they feel like they might be heading in the right direction. Finally. 

The phone rings, making Dean and John jump at the same time. Dean glances at the time. They’ve been working on this pile of patients for hours. He grabs the phone and mouths to his dad, “Dinner?”

“Hello?” 

“Dean?” Sam answers. “Where have you been? Last time I called, Dad picked up.”

“I thought I didn’t have to check in on you like a little kid anymore,” he says even though the guilt starts eating at him. John has replaced his work with a Chinese takeout menu. 

“You don’t,” Sam says stiffly. 

“What’s up?” he asks, turning away from his dad and looking at the wall. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore, Dean.” The words are chilling to Dean. It’s the last thing he remembers hearing Sam say before Dean had brushed him off and Sam had run away for two weeks. 

“Sam… Do you want me to come get you?” he asks, lesson learned from last time. The line is quiet for a moment. It’s not much better here than there. It’s just another seedy motel room, but this time with a distant father and a poor excuse for a brother. 

“I thought you were coming tomorrow.” He sounds impatient and a little resigned like he’s forgotten that he’s the one who called. 

“Do you want me to come get you now or not?” Dean hates that he sounds impatient, but he doesn’t want to go in circles about this or end up leaving Sam there to run away again. Sam is his responsibility. 

“Fine.” This kid has abandonment issues with good reason, and it doesn’t help that he’s been left alone for over a week. It also doesn’t help that Dean stopped calling. The guilt is like acid. One drop spreads through Dean, eating away at him. 

“Be there in two hours,” he says and hangs up. “I guess I’m going to get him tonight. You good?” 

“Yeah.” John tosses him the keys. “Check out completely and get a new motel when you bring him back next week. Five hours.”

“I’ll be back in time.” He glances at the clock as he plays with the keys. It’s 6:20 now. He has to be back with Sam before midnight. Doable. He’ll grab a burger on his way out and eat in the car. 

Dean gets in the car and feels the weight of his necklace against his chest. He rarely thinks about it. He doesn’t like to think about it. Sam had meant to give it to their dad for Christmas one year. The last time Dean even remembers celebrating the damn day. Their dad never showed and Sam gave it to Dean instead. He feels the weight of it when he’s fucked up. He should have called. He shouldn’t have left Sam alone in the first place. He used to do it so much when he was little just because their dad had said he needed him that Sam ran away. Dean grabs the necklace tight, the two horns on the medallion thing biting into his palm before he lets go and starts the car. 

“Move, I’ve got a full tank,” Dean says, pushing past Sam as he walks into the room. 

“Hello to you too,” Sam calls as Dean walks to the bathroom. He speeds more than his dad, so he made it in under two hours, but a large soda and no bathroom breaks isn’t a fun time. 

“Are you packed?” Dean calls through the door. 

“Yeah.” 

“Get everything in the car. I’ll check you out in a minute and we can go. Did you eat?” He flushes and washes his hands while checking to make sure the toothbrush and toothpaste aren’t being left behind by accident. They're not. 

“No, not hungry.” 

Dean rolls his eyes as he leaves the bathroom. “Really, Sam? We’ll stop somewhere. Burrito? No, wait. You’re gassy. Pizza? Burgers?”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam grabs his duffle bag and heads for the car. Dean checks over the room for anything else. He tosses a stray pencil in Sam’s backpack. When he’s satisfied, he sits on the edge of the bed and drags the phone over. “Who’re you calling?”

“Dad. Finish packing,” Dean says. Sam sighs and grabs another bag. This one, the weapons left with him in case anything had gone wrong while they were gone. Dean stares at the ceiling while the phone rings.

“Dr. Cameron Smith,” Cameron’s voice washes over him and he tries not to grin stupidly at the wall. 

“Hey.” He clears his throat and glances toward the door. “Just picked up Sam. We should be back close to eleven, I think.”

“Dean.” Cameron’s voice brightens and it makes Dean’s heart jump into his throat. “I thought you weren’t picking him up till tomorrow.”

“Change of plans. No big deal.” Sam walks into the room and grabs his backpack. It’s the last bag. “Give me your keys and wait in the car,” Dean says to him. Sam drops his room keys on the bed and walks back out the door. “I have to go. I won’t be able to call you when I get back,” he says to Cameron. 

“Be safe.” 

“I’m always safe.” He smiles and bites his lip. “But I refuse to be one of those couples that does the whole  _ no you hang up _ thing, so goodnight. I love you.”

“No,  _ you _ hang up first,” Cameron teases. “I love you.” 

Dean grins and hangs up before grabbing the keys and going to the office to check out of the motel. It doesn’t take long, the clerk in a rush to not have to deal with any human interaction. 

“So, why the fuck do you want to spend the holidays with us? I thought you outgrew that shit, Sam,” Dean says as soon as they’re on the road. 

“I don’t care about the holiday. It’s not like Dad’s suddenly going to want to sit down to a family meal and talk about what we’re thankful for.” He huffs. “No, I’ve, uh… I know you told me not to, but I’ve been looking into televita to help with the case. You guys were taking your sweet time so I figured I could try to help. And get this, their powers have a limit on distance.”

“That would explain the crop circle,” Dean nods. 

“Exactly,” he says despite Dean never actually telling Sam about the map their dad drew up of the murders. “So if we have a map, we might be able to see an accurate area.”

“We have one. We can go over it tomorrow.” The murders could be happening while the televita is sitting at the doctor’s office. The immediate area around that shopping area is clean, so it’s safe to assume that whoever is doing this is keeping it away from where they’re operating from. Why else would there be a circle? “Can televita find each other?”

“I don’t know. Nothing says anything about multiple televita. Do you think there’s more than one?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Just a random thought. They’re pretty rare.” He hopes Sam doesn’t think too hard about it. “What do you want to eat?”


	10. Chapter 10

The past few days have been a whirlwind. By Wednesday night, Dean’s head is spinning from the revolving door he’s been going through twice a day every day. His life has been spent hunting with his family with breaks to fall into Cameron’s arms. He goes from the quiet, mostly obedient soldier to the cocky guy bringing lunch to his boyfriend while fully prepared to not eat a bite of it and devour each other for lunch instead. The receptionist has scolded him, thinking Dean is  _ a homosexual _ who is trying to sink his claws into Cameron. Every day that he shows up, her mouth pinches tighter, her eyes grow angrier, and her remarks, colder. It doesn’t really bother Dean. 

Every day, Dean realizes just how good at researching Sam is getting. Every day, he feels his heart sink a little lower when he thinks of Sam spending his life doing nothing but this. He could be a doctor, lawyer, astronaut, anything that isn’t hunting. And every day, Sam asks to come with Dean to lunch and Dean says no. He asks to come to dinner, and Dean lies and tells him he’s just going to play some pool at a bar. The lies hurt, but he has to do it. 

“Whose sock is this?” Sam asks, holding up a sock with lightning bolts all over it. Dean snatches it before John can see. 

“Night,” he mutters, shoving the sock into his bag as he lies down on his bed. Sam plops onto the spot beside Dean like he used to when they were kids. 

“I think we’re close,” Sam says quietly. 

“There’s tomorrow,” their dad sighs from the other bed. 

It’s true that they’ve been making progress. The televita is likely at the offices at the time of the murders. Dean already knows that it isn’t Cameron, but he’s safe because Cameron has never been at the office when it’s happened. They have a list of the people who work there who have been there and a list of the patients in the building. There’s still names to cross off and times to erase, but Dean can feel that it’s almost over. Usually, at this point in a hunt, Dean has excited, nervous energy running through him. He’s usually ready to jump up and save the world. This time’s different. He feels sick. He doesn’t want to leave and this case is the only thing allowing him to stay. 

He closes his eyes and hugs his pillow to him, but sleep doesn’t come. 

When the clock ticks over to midnight, Dean takes a deep breath. 15 hours until he’s supposed to arrive at Cameron’s house to announce that they’re dating. 17 hours until he’s supposed to be sitting down with Cameron, Kayla, and Jenny to eat the first Thanksgiving feast he’ll have had since he was three. 

Dean listens to Sam’s quieter snores and John’s bellowing ones while he turns and twists in his sheets. The red glow from the clock isn’t helping, but even when he turns it to face the wall, he turns it back to check almost every hour on the hour. He can’t tell if he’s nervous for Thanksgiving or for the ending of the case. Either way, his stomach is in knots. 

It’s just after five when Dean sits up, officially ready to give up on sleeping. His head hurts. Dean grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on before stepping into his boots. As soon as the door opens, the morning chill bites into his cheeks. It’s fucking cold. Why is he even outside right now? He needs coffee maybe. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking. He could have taken Baby. Why didn’t he just take Baby? Too late. He keeps walking and focuses on the visible puffs of breath forming in front of his nose. 

Maybe his head feels weird because he couldn’t sleep. He tries to remember the last time he drank water, but he knows what a dehydration headache feels like and this ain’t it. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s more like he’s overtired. It feels foggy and heavy. He shakes his head. Coffee. 

But then he walks past the first open diner he sees and doesn’t notice. He keeps walking until he gets to a house with a truck parked in the driveway. The light is on. Dean knocks. 

The door opens and the receptionist stands there. Her hair is deflated, pulled into a low ponytail. Her face is clean of all makeup. She looks vaguely confused but opens the door wider. Dean doesn’t know why he’s here or how he got here but he steps into her house and barely registers the sound of the door closing behind him. 

Inside, Dean is breaking. He can’t move. He sits quietly on the couch and keeps his jaw clenched tight as he’s called every slur that applies. Why the fuck did he come here? The receptionist’s name is Marie and she loathes Dean for everything he is. He hasn’t said a word in hours as she’s berated him. Some of her words cut as deep as the one’s his dad had used. 

“Cameron doesn’t even like you. You’re just  _ convenient _ ,” she snarls. 

“He  _ loves _ me!” Dean finally shouts. “You jealous bitch. You don’t even know him!” He’s better than this. He’s better than rising to the fight, but he can’t help it. He can’t leave and he’s been verbally thrashed for six hours. He’s sat here and taken every word of hate. His jaw has been clenched so tight his skull feels like it might shatter. Tears are threatening to fall. He doesn’t know if it’s more from anger or distress, but he’s managed to keep everything bottled tight.

He’s been taking her abuse and silently reliving the same that had happened when his father had found out that Dean wasn’t straight. He remembers the broken bones, the choking, the punches. He remembers the words that had eaten into him. How disgusting he was. Now, Dean’s heart slams in his chest. 

“Would you say this shit to him?” Dean demands. “Or is your lust conditional?” 

“ _How dare you_ ,” she seethes. 

For the first time in the six hours he’s been here, Dean realizes what’s going on. Not that he can do anything about it. His head has been too cloudy to think about it. None of the vics had survived to tell them that it feels fuzzy when their mind had been taken control of. The televita has been feeding on the victims’ emotions  _ and _ their exiting life force. They’ve gotten greedy. And now Dean and Marie are in the spider’s web. He’d walked here without knowing where he was going or who lived here. And they started fighting. Emotions are running so high even Dean can feel how thick the air is with it. He’s drowning in it. He’s trapped and if someone doesn’t find him, he’s going to die today and so is Marie. 

“Listen to me, we need to stop,” Dean says in the middle of another of her awful monologues. “You have to stop. I know we don’t like each other, but you have to calm down. We’re giving it what it wants.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she sneers.

“I don’t think you do, lady.” How does she not find it weird that she woke up at five this morning to let a guy she hates into her home just to fight? “I don’t think giving you the talk is going to help either of us right now, but it doesn’t matter if you like me or not—”

“I  _ detest _ you. You’re revolting.”

“Great. Thank you. Don’t care. We need to shut the fuck up or we’re both going to die. Alright?” He waits for an answer. 

“Are you threatening to  _ kill _ me?” she asks, voice shrill. Fuck. 

“No. I’m trying to fucking save us both!” He gets up, surprised that he’s able to after everything, and starts for the door. 

“Touch that door and it’ll be the last thing you do, Dean,” Marie says coldly. Dean freezes and looks at her, wondering if he’s talking to her or the televita in charge. He reaches for the door and sees the flash of silver in her hand as she comes at him. 

“Fuck!” He ducks under her arm and runs past her. He makes it to the stairs before his head fills with that cloudy feeling, a dull pain at his temples. He stops in his tracks and grabs his head. 

The knife rips into his calf. He cries out, but the thought to move doesn’t even occur to him. She stabs into his leg again and he falls onto the stairs. 

“Fight it,” he says through his teeth. He doesn’t know if he’s talking to Marie or himself, but it works a little. He starts pulling himself up the stairs on his hands and one knee, wincing. Blood drips from his leg to the stairs but he ignores it. “Where’s your phone, bitch?” He doesn’t know who he would call. He could call his dad and Sam, but he still doesn’t know who’s behind it. He wants to call Cameron. 

“Why?” She says a little breathlessly. “Who’re you going to call?”

“The Ghostbusters,” he says sarcastically. He’s rewarded with his other leg being skewered. He yells and takes ragged breaths, hands balled into fists. He’s almost to the top of the stairs. She keeps having lapses. One moment she’s attacking him, the next, she’s standing still, looking mortified at what she’s seeing. The televita might be distracted or losing their grip. 

Dean scrambles up the last few steps as Marie starts to hyperventilate. At the top of the stairs, Dean gingerly touches the knife that’s still embedded in his leg. He knows he’s not supposed to take it out. He could bleed out if he does. But it hurts. 

Marie’s eyes darken again and she starts up the stairs toward him. He crawls, basically dragging himself toward the closest door. If he can barricade himself in another room, he can get out of this. He can do this. He doesn’t mean to look back but he does. The stairs are streaked with his blood. He hadn’t noticed that his hands got bloody, but there are red handprints all over the floor. 

Dean is shaking. He sees it when he reaches up for the doorknob and manages to get it open. He’s almost inside when he feels fresh hot pain rip through him. She’s grabbed the knife and pulled down, shredding his leg and tearing it open. He screams. 

He shoves her away from him as hard as he can and pulls himself into the next room, slamming the door shut behind him and panting as he sags against the door. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping him going at this point. He tears off his belt and wraps it around his left leg, making a tourniquet as he pulls it tight. The door thumps and he hears the sound of the knife scraping against the wood of the door. 

“No one’s home!” Dean calls. “Come back later!” He leans against the door, letting his head fall back against it for a moment as he shuts his eyes and breathes. “Shit.” 

When he opens his eyes again, he sees the phone on the other side of the room next to the bed. This door doesn’t have a lock. It’s a guest bedroom. If he moves, she’ll be able to get in and stab worse than his legs. It’s his only shot though. 

Dean moves as quickly as he can and dials Cameron’s number without thinking about it. The door bursts open behind him. He’s about to dive under the bed but the fog creeps into his mind again and he goes completely still. 

“Dr. Cameron Smith,” Cameron answers. His voice sounds a little far. Dean lets out another scream that mixes with a sob as the knife comes down again. He reaches out and grabs Marie’s wrists, keeping her from plunging the knife through his neck. “Dean?!”

“ _ Help _ !” Dean screams. The fog is suddenly gone and the knife drops from shaking hands. 

“Dean! Where are you? What’s going on?!” 

“Wh—” Marie’s eyes roll back in her head and she falls. Dean isn’t far behind her, the edges of his vision blurring before his head hits the floor. 

Dean blinks. His legs feel heavy and his nose itches. His throat hurts a little. And he has no idea where he is. “Help,” he breathes, though he’s not sure if he’s in danger or not. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” an unfamiliar doctor of some sort says from beside the bed. Dean sees the IV stand and follows the line to his hand. The doctor says something about an accident and that he’s going to be okay. He’s in the recovery room. He looks down at his legs. They’re both bandaged up. 

“I have to go,” Dean says groggily. He has to make it to Thanksgiving dinner. It’s the only thing he was supposed to do today. 

“You’re not going anywhere except a room when a bed opens up.” 

“I have to go,” he insists, eyelids fluttering. “Cam…” 

When he wakes up again, it isn’t a doctor he sees first. Sam is sitting in the chair closest to the bed, his eyes filled with worry. “Dean?” 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean mumbles. 

“We got the guy,” Sam says. “I didn’t think we got there in time.” 

“I’m okay.” He has no idea if he’s okay. “Where’s Dad?”

“Getting some food in the cafeteria.” Sam is still sitting at the edge of his seat. “Do you need anything?” 

“Water, maybe,” Dean rasps. He sits up a little as Sam gets up to go fill a paper cup with some water. He brings it over to Dean along with a tray on wheels. 

“Do you want something to eat? I can go get us some food.” 

“I’m too nauseas,” he says. It’s probably the anesthesia. “What time is it?”

“Four.” Sam shifts in his seat. “We wanted to be here when you woke up. You were in and out for a little bit.” Dean doesn’t even remember being awake at any point, but it makes sense. “Dad went to go eat lunch after he was sure you were going to be okay.”

Dean huffs, unsure to believe if he actually cared. “Who was it?”

“Roger Miller.”  _ Roger _ . “He actually fought in the war with Dad. He was seeing Dr. Smith for his PTSD, but… He gave up when he lost everything. Dad thinks he was using his powers back in the war and that’s why no one noticed before.” 

“Oh.” But Roger had seemed so nice. And Cameron tried to help him. And… Dean lets his head fall back against his pillows. 

There’s a soft knock on the open door. A nurse peeks her head in. Dean rolls his head to the side to look at her as Sam turns around in his seat. “I’m sorry. Are you awake enough to go over some questions?”

“Right now?” Dean asks.

“Yes. It’s about the incident. And we’re going to have to ask you to wait outside.” She says the last part to Sam. 

“Okay.” Sam gets up. “I’m going to get some lunch.” Dean nods and Sam leaves. The nurse steps out of the room behind him and Dean looks at the ceiling. 

“You’re okay,” Cameron breathes. 


	11. Chapter 11

Cameron is here. Dean’s heart monitor spikes and he sits up too quickly. His head swims as Cameron crosses the room to him. He closes his eyes as Cameron’s arms wrap around him. He melts against his chest as tender kisses are planted in his hair. 

“Dean.” He sounds like he’s been through hell. His voice shakes as he repeats his name in between kisses. “I thought I lost you,” he murmurs into Dean. They stay like that for a moment and Dean focuses on the beating of Cam’s heart and the feeling of his fingers in his hair. When he finally lets go of Dean, it feels like the air has been sucked out of them both. Dean lays back against his pillows and pats the edge of the bed. “What happened?” 

“Roger was killing your patients,” Dean says. His own voice sounds exhausted and raspy. Cameron settles next to him and clasps one of Dean’s hands. “He was going to have your receptionist kill me. Dad and Sam got him.”

“But you’re okay?” he asks, his worried eyes flitting to Dean’s legs. 

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. He has to be okay for Sam. He has to be alive for John. He has to be honest for Cam. “I haven’t talked to the doctor yet. Last I knew, I’d been stabbed a few times. I don’t know if I’m okay.” His voice cracks on the last word and he feels his face crumple. Fuck this medicine. He shouldn’t be crying. He pulls his hand from Cam’s to wipe furiously at the tears. “I missed dinner. I was supposed to be there.” 

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Cameron says gently. Dean nods and puts his hand back in Cameron’s. “I can’t stay all night. I just needed to make sure…” 

“Stay all night,” Dean begs.

“Your brother will be back soon. And probably with your dad.” He runs his thumb over Dean’s hand. “I can come back after visiting hours with some food. Anesthesia should have worn off by then and you can eat something hopefully. Sorry, I overheard you earlier.”

“We really did skip the beginning of a relationship, huh?” Dean smiles tiredly. “Visit your boyfriend in the hospital.”

“Check.” Cameron smiles a little. “Get some rest, love.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Dean’s lips, nose, and forehead before resting their foreheads together. He’s cupping Dean’s jaw, his thumb running over his cheek gently. “I promise I’ll be back tonight. I love you so much.”

“I think I’m safe in a hospital bed,” Dean says. When Cameron makes it to the door, Dean calls back, “I love you too.” He can’t let him walk out that door without hearing it back. Cameron pauses and smiles before leaving the room. 

Sam is sitting beside Dean while John stands at the foot of the bed listening to the doctor. The lacerations aren’t as bad as they look. They had cleaned the wounds and given him stitches. They’d checked for signs of complications, but everything looked fine. When Marie had dragged the knife down his calf, she had pulled it out enough that the cut wasn’t as deep as the initial stab. Because of the trauma to his calf muscles, he’ll still need time to recover and some physical therapy, but he should be fine. 

“Ten days for the cuts. Fourteen days for the stitches. And at least a month of physical therapy?” John repeats when they’re all alone in the room. Sam lets out a breath and looks at Dean. “You can’t hunt like this.”

“The stab wounds in my legs didn’t clue you into that?” Dean asks. John shoots him a look, but Dean just shakes his head. “You finished the hunt anyway, right?”

“Yeah. But I got a call from a friend. They think they might know something about the demon that killed your mom.” Trump card. Sam almost snaps his neck from turning his head so fast. 

“What?”

“It’s too dangerous. You’re going back to school,” John snaps. Sam grinds his teeth together. He’s ready to fight. 

"Make up your mind! Am I a hunter or do I get to be normal and go to school? You can't have it both ways! I want to help! I just saved both your asses!" Dammit, Sam. 

"You're not going. End of story. It’s too dangerous.” His voice is starting to raise to match Sam’s. Dean’s head is pounding. The words are lost on him as he watches them yell. 

“Stop it!” Dean yells over them. “Stop! I’ll get a new motel room closer to the hospital and do my damn PT. Sam, go back to school and stay there. This is the demon we’re talking about. It’s important, Sam. It’s  _ Mom _ .” 

“Dean—”

“I’m tired. I’m in pain. You’re giving me a headache. Just listen to me for once, Sam,” Dean snaps. “Bring me my duffle tomorrow and go find that son of a bitch.”

“You’ll be alright here?” John asks, ignoring the shouting. 

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The alarm on his machine is going off, alerting anyone who’s listening that his heart rate has spiked during the fight. “Just go,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. 

“Get some rest. I’ll bring your things in the morning. Just use the pager.” John leaves the room after awkwardly tapping the bedrail. Sam scowls at Dean. 

“How is this a good thing? You can’t even walk. Dad’s going off alone. I’ll be two hours away learning microbiology and Latin. What if something happens, Dean?”

“Latin is important,” Dean points out. “Dad’s going to be busy. Just call me if you have an issue. I’ll give you a number to use when I get a new place. It’s not like we haven’t done this before. We have our code words. We have our systems. They work.” 

Sam nods reluctantly. He’s still just a kid. Dean wants to hug him, but that’s not really something they do unless things are really bad. And right now, he’s trying to convince him that things really aren’t all that bad. 

“Get out of here. Page me the number for your new room when you get there and I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” Sam sighs and gets up finally. “Were you scared?”

“I’m never scared,” Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m not scared of anything.” He’d been terrified. He remembers screaming for help into a phone he’d had to drop to keep from being killed. He was sure he was going to die and, scared out of his mind, had dialed his boyfriend’s number. 

“You’re always scared.”

“I am not.” He scoots lower into his pillows. He really is tired. The second they leave, he’s sure he’s going to become one with the bed and pillows and fall straight to sleep. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” 

Sam walks out of the room and Dean sighs, closing his eyes for real and letting the hospital sounds fade to the background as he slips back to sleep. 

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is the only Thanksgiving movie that’s on and worth watching. Dean had looked for the Charlie Brown special, but it was either too late, or this hospital doesn’t get a channel that runs it. His tray is filled with the dinner they served, but Dean has only touched the pudding cup. Hospital food isn’t that gross, and he’s more than willing to eat it, but he’s waiting for Cameron. 

A nurse had brought him a phone book earlier and he’d tried looking for a motel to stay at, but had given up shortly after starting. He can wing it when he gets out of here tomorrow. He glances at the crutches they brought him earlier. After everyone had left and he’d taken another drug and trauma induced nap, a doctor had come by to help him up. He’d leaned on the crutches and managed to walk with slow, small steps. The pain wasn’t that bad compared to earlier, but he’s still on the good stuff and that does a great job of numbing the pain. 

The door opens and Dean looks over. There’s a red balloon with bandaids all over it, a single flower, a Justice League card, and a bag that smells like food in Cameron’s arms. He smiles when he sees Dean and closes the door behind him. 

“Kayla wanted to come, but I told her she’d have to wait to see you. She sent me with the balloon and card instead,” Cam says, handing Dean the card and leaving the balloon to float in the corner with the crutches. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” He moves over a little so Cameron can sit on the bed beside him. 

He opens the card and grins when he sees that Kayla has drawn an arrow to Batman and written “you.” He’s always loved Batman. They’d talked about their favorite superheroes last time he was with her. The second arrow points to Wonder Woman and says “me.” At the bottom of the card, under the large lettering yelling at him to get well soon, she’s signed her name. 

“Thank you,” Dean sighs, leaning against Cameron and passing him the card back. 

“So, what did the doctor say?” he asks, resting his cheek against Dean as he wraps an arm around him. The single rose lays across Cam’s legs and Dean picks it up, spinning it between his fingers. 

“I have a month of PT. Stitches out in two weeks. Sam’s heading back to school. Dad’s got a lead. I have a motel to find.” He turns the tv off as John Candy and Steve Martin get pulled over in their smoldering frame of a car. 

“You don’t need to go to a motel,” Cameron says tentatively. Dean feels his face burn as he freezes, the flower suddenly still in his hand. “I mean, realistically, you have a boyfriend in the area who owns a house. And how often are you planning on coming over anyway?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Dean says quietly. 

“You will never be a burden,” Cameron says with more force than Dean was expecting. 

“What about Kayla?” Dean asks. “Does she even know about us yet?” 

“It, uh…” Cameron falters. “It might have come up…” He clears his throat awkwardly. 

“What happened?” Dean pulls away so he can look at him. Cameron bites his lip. He’s less pale than earlier. 

“She might have definitely heard me telling Jenny that I had to get to you while I was panicking and thinking you’d been killed. I may have yelled that I’m in love with you.” His eyes dip and his smile slips. He thought Dean had died. He thought he’d heard his boyfriend die. Cameron clears his throat and looks back up at Dean. “Kayla asked if you knew.” 

Dean laughs a little. “And then?”

“And then I told her that you did.” Dean leans in and kisses him softly. Their lips part and Cameron smiles. “When I told her you were alright, she had a lot more questions that I still haven’t answered, but like I said, she was pretty insistent on coming here.”

“I guess I’ll see her tomorrow… What’d you bring?” Dean asks, nodding toward the abandoned bag of food at the end of the bed. “I haven’t eaten all day.” He glances at the empty pudding cup. “Minus the pudding.” 

“All day?” Cameron asks, grabbing the bag. “Didn’t you have breakfast? You called me at almost noon.” He pushes the hospital food to the side on the tray and starts taking out tupperware of homemade food. Some mashed potatoes, turkey, candied yams, the works. 

“It was twelve? Damn.” Dean had forgotten how long he’d been trapped there. “No. I got there before six. We didn’t exactly stop to have a picnic.” Cameron makes a face but hands Dean a fork instead of asking anything more. Dean digs in and groans, it tastes so good. 

Cameron laughs at the slight theatrics and starts building a turkey sandwich on a bread roll with cranberry sauce. “I think Kayla is more thrown by the fact that I said I’m in love than anything else.”

“She doesn’t care that I’m a guy or that it’s me?” Dean asks around his mashed potatoes. 

“Apparently not.” He shrugs. “If anything, she’s excited. Jenny already knew I was bi, so she was just more surprised that I’d started actually dating.” Dean nudges Cameron’s shoulder with his in something of an affectionate gesture. Cam glances at him and smiles, nudging him back. 

“Dad’s dropping my shit off here in the morning. I don’t know when I’m being discharged though.” He doesn’t know how he’s going to get to Cameron’s. Crutches, a duffle bag, and two injured legs can’t exactly walk the distance. He doesn’t even know where he is right now. 

“The office is closed tomorrow for the investigation since Marie was the only attacker they could find,” Cameron says. “And Kayla is staying with her mom until I can go get her tomorrow after getting you home.”

“Can you stay tonight then?” Dean asks. Cameron nods without stopping to think about it. Something about that makes Dean’s chest tighten. 

“I’ll just make myself scarce when they come to drop your things off,” he says. Now Dean’s the one who nods. 

“Thanks.” They kiss and laugh when cranberry sauce makes it into Dean’s mouth. “Did you bring pie?” He sets the dish with the mashed potatoes back on the tray and grabs the bag. He’s pretty sure pie is part of Thanksgiving. They're the only advertisements he cares to listen to. Holiday commercials are usually bogged down with cheap toys, crappy cars driving in the snow, and cold and flu medicine. But around Thanksgiving, there’s always pumpkin pie. 

“I didn’t know which you’d like, so I brought apple and pumpkin,” Cameron says. “Jenny made them with Kayla so you don’t have to worry about being poisoned.” 

“Yes!” Dean grabs both and looks between the two slices like he’s being challenged with the biggest dilemma of his life. This is pie. He can’t choose. “Which is your favorite?”

“Pumpkin.” 

Dean puts the pumpkin pie slice back in the bag and opens up the apple one. It smells divine. It’s perfection. He’s starting to regret not going to that bake sale if this is how good the pie tastes. “What do people do on Thanksgiving?” Dean asks. 

Cameron raises his eyebrows as he thinks of a way to answer and finishes chewing his food. He swallows and makes a  _ hmm _ noise. “Some bickering is to be expected. When Jenny’s parents are in town, she usually ends up having at least one fight with them. The first few times they came down, they had been hellbent on trying to get Jenny and I to get married. We try to keep it about the whole  _ thankful _ thing and talk about what we’re thankful for. It’s also a great time for Kayla to not eat her mashed potatoes and just build sculptures with it.”

“What’re you thankful for?” Dean asks seriously, lowering his fork. 

“The usual suspects: Kayla and our home. It’s interesting, actually. I’ve never been thankful for a hunter before,” Cam says thoughtfully. 

Dean grins. “You’re such a cheeseball.” 

“Takes one to know one.” Dean puts down his empty pie container to free up his hand to hold Cameron’s and rest his head against his shoulder. “What’re  _ you _ thankful for?”

“You,” Dean whispers. “And Sam and Kayla. And pie. Also a little that Marie didn’t kill me, but that’s whatever.” 


	12. Chapter 12

The local news is still talking about the Thanksgiving horror that they know nothing about. They’re humans who don’t know that the monster in their closets, under their beds, and creeping in the shadows are real and are reporting that a woman kidnapped an unnamed man and had stabbed him several times before he was able to call for help. 

“I didn’t know where you were,” Cameron mutters at the tv, his arm around Dean protectively as they cuddle on the couch. 

John and Sam had found out where Dean and Marie were from Roger before they killed him. Sam had called for an ambulance and crossed his fingers that Dean wasn’t dead yet. But Dean hadn’t called them. Or the cops.

A clip plays of Marie being perp-walked to the cop car with her hands behind her back in cuffs. Her face on the screen is pale as a ghost with tears running down her cheeks. There’s a brief shot of Dean being taken to the ambulance on a gurney, but it’s blurry and his face can’t be made out. Dean doesn’t remember it, but he isn’t exactly trying. In the coverage of the ambulance pulling away, Dean spots Baby parked at the opposite curb. 

“The single victim was released from the hospital earlier today and is expected to make a full recovery, but no name was given at this time,” the reporter says. Dean snorts. 

“And Marie?” Dean asks. 

“I went down to the station to see what I could do, but…” He sighs and holds Dean’s hand. “She thinks she did it of her own volition. She says I need help. She says she should be locked up for what she did but she’s not sorry. I’m not going to lie, I didn’t exactly want to help her after that.” 

“Right.” 

“The police have to finish investigating her things. They said we can open again on Monday, hopefully,” he adds. “I’m not exactly happy with her, but if they pin all of the murders around here on her…”

“They can’t. It’ll probably just look like she was trying to be the next copycat of the string,” Dean says, grabbing the remote to turn the tv off now that it’s moving onto traffic and the weather. His pager goes off and Cameron leans forward to grab it from the coffee table. He hands it to Dean and waits. It’s the number for Sam’s room. “It’s Sam. Can you grab the post-its?”

“Yep.” Cameron gets up and tosses the bright green stack to Dean before grabbing a pen and handing it to him. He writes down the number and hands everything back to Cam. 

“Thanks. I have to call him later.” 

“You can call him now if you want,” he offers. Dean shakes his head. Kayla should be here soon. Jenny said she was going to bring her by when Cameron had called to let her know that they’d gotten Dean settled. It wasn’t exactly hard to get Dean set up. His single duffle of clothes fit into one of Cameron’s dresser drawers without a problem. He’d also been left with some weapons which Dean had locked into the trunk of the 1985 Impala to keep away from Kayla. Then, they’d set Dean up on the couch with his legs propped up with ice and pillows and as many cuddles from Cameron as he could take. 

“Just remind me to call him after dinner,” Dean says, shoving the note into his pocket. 

There’s a knock on the door and they both look over at it. Cameron runs a nervous hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before he crosses the room to answer. Dean swallows hard, but finds he’s actually a little excited. Not at all ready, but excited all the same. 

The door opens and Kayla hugs Cameron before she runs across the room and jumps onto the couch, throwing her arms around Dean. He can’t remember ever having quite the reception. He hugs back all the same. “Dean! You’re okay! We thought you were dead. But then you were okay and Dad went to go see you and I wanted to go but he said no so I made you the card. Did you see the card?”

“I got the card,” Dean laughs. “I love it. I set it up by my bed.” He’s not lying. It’s standing up on the bedside table next to the spot Dean is apparently taking. 

“So, he’s alright?” Dean hears from Jenny at the door while Kayla starts detailing just how worried everyone had been. 

“Yeah. Stitches and PT and he’ll be fine,” Cameron sighs. “Better for being out of that hospital room.”

“Don’t let Kayla smother him before I can meet him,” Jenny says. “I intend to meet this Prince Charming who finally got you to date someone, but he should probably rest right now.” 

“You don’t have a cast?” Kayla asks, pulling the blankets away from his legs. He’s wearing a fresh pair of jeans, the last pair too far gone to be saved after everything. 

“I didn’t break anything,” Dean answers, still trying to eavesdrop on Jenny and Cameron. 

“I wanted to draw on your casts,” Kayla says. She puts the blanket back gently and hugs Dean again, one of her knees in his side. 

“Either Sunday morning or Wednesday night. He’s exhausted,” Cam says, voice still low. 

“You look exhausted too. Order in tonight. Take it easy.” 

Dean is silently thankful for her observations and Cameron’s protection. He could probably fall asleep right now if he didn’t have a worried little girl’s arms around his neck. He rubs her back gently and feels her hug a little tighter before she lets go again and sits next to him. 

“Does your brother know you got hurt?” Kayla asks as she leans against him. Cameron closes the door after saying goodbye and turns around. When he sees Kayla curled up with Dean, his eyes go soft, a small smile on his lips. 

“Yeah. He came to see me yesterday before he had to go back,” Dean says, watching Cameron’s heart melt. “You okay?”

“I didn’t want you to die,” Kayla whispers. The excitement of seeing him okay and at her house has worn off, replaced with the overflow of grief and worry she’s been carrying. “And you got really hurt.” She sniffles. 

“Hey.” He hugs her sideways. “I’m okay. Wasn’t a great day, but I’m alright.” 

“I was scared.” She wipes at her face but refuses to look at Dean. Cameron comes and sits on the other side of Kayla. 

“It was a really scary thing,” Cameron agrees with her. “But it’s over, right?” Kayla nods. She’s still sitting so close to Dean she’s practically in his lap. He wishes he could do more for her. “How about you pick a movie to show Dean while I order some pizza? Then we can all relax.” Cam suggests. Kayla nods again and gets off the couch, going to the cabinet where her Disney VHS tapes are. 

Cam gets up to go to the phone and pauses behind the couch to press a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. Dean closes his eyes and soaks up the touch, lifting his hand to meet Cameron’s on his shoulder. When he steps away, Dean sighs.

“The Little Mermaid,” Kayla announces. She puts the movie in and turns on the tv before sitting next to Dean again. “I have a question.”

“Hmm?” 

“You and Dad are like  _ boyfriends _ , right?” she asks, looking up at him. Dean nods, smiling a little. “Does that mean you’re going to kiss?” 

“Uh… Yeah…” He tries not to look over his shoulder where Cameron has just stuttered while ordering a cheese pizza because he’s too busy eavesdropping. 

“Are you going to get married?” 

“Whoa,” Dean laughs. Cameron chokes. She’s waiting for her answer. It’s only been two weeks of bliss. They haven’t even really had their first fight yet. Aside from Dean pulling a gun on him when he found out he was a televita. But that was different. Not to mention, it’s not even legal. “Maybe. Are you going to get married?” Dean asks quickly to glide over his own answer. His cheeks burn.

“Maybe someday,” she says. “If Jake apologizes.” 

Dean tries not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheek as he nods. Cameron finally joins them on the couch, sitting on the other side of Kayla and holding Dean’s hand behind her back as she presses play on the movie. Kayla looks up at the screen and Cameron looks over at Dean. He’d heard what he said and his heart is in his eyes. 

Dean isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he wakes up when Kayla gets up from the couch to go get ready for bed. He remembers Cam kissing his hand while a lobster sang for Eric to go ahead and kiss the girl, but that’s the last he remembers of the movie. 

“I was debating leaving you out here. You looked so comfortable,” Cameron says softly. 

“Thanks, but I’d rather sleep in a bed,” Dean mutters. He stretches and sits up. There’s a crinkle in his pocket of the phone number he’s supposed to call. Right. Sam. He groans as he eases his feet down to the floor and reaches for his crutches. “I’ll be there in a sec,” Dean says when he sees Cameron hesitating by the hallway. 

“Okay. Shout if you need me.” He goes to his room as Dean reaches the phone. 

He leans against the wall as he waits, his eyes drifting from his feet to the table and the hallway and Cameron’s open door. 

“Hello?” 

“Heya, Sammy.” 

“What took you so long?” He has every right to be worried, but it doesn’t stop Dean from rolling his eyes. He doesn’t know how to tell Sam that he doesn’t have a motel name to give him or a number to call. If Sam calls here there’s a possibility of Cameron answering. Kayla answering. The answering machine, which he’s pretty sure is a dead giveaway that he’s not at a motel given that it’s probably Cam and Kayla being too cute for words. 

“Did Dad leave already?” Dean asks instead of addressing anything else. 

“Yeah, when he dropped me off here. Said there was a long drive ahead of him.” Sam sounds disappointed but unsurprised. There’s some of that teenaged judgment that is always directed at parents, but John deserves it. “Where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean says. “You have the pager, right? Or does Dad?”

“Dad left it with me and told me to contact you if I needed anything before he called me.” Shit like this used to piss Dean off, but now he’s glad of it. He’d rather Sam call him for help than hold onto some shred of dumb hope that John will step up to the plate.

“Okay. Use the pager to tell me if you need me to call.” Part of him wants to tell Sam everything, introduce him to Cameron and Kayla, let him have the address and phone number without worrying. The other part doesn’t know if he can. 

“Don’t do this. Just tell me where you are,” Sam begs. 

“I can’t. I have to go. I’ll call you on Monday after school, okay?” 

“What if I don’t answer?” He might as well be in the room glaring at Dean and threatening never to talk to him again. 

Dean sighs. “Then I’ll assume you became cool and went to a party for the first time in your life. Want to keep up that nerd rep? Answer the damn phone.” 

“Why do you always do this? You always just leave!” Sam protests. Every time Dean has been kicked out of the motel rooms, the car, the hunts, Sam assumes he’s left. Dean put up a fight each time John had thrown him out. He’d fought tooth and nail not to leave Sam, but it’s easy to get locked out and left behind. He’s ditchable and the point has been made clear to him. But Sam thinks he’s the ditchable one. He thinks Dean’s the one who’s been leaving him behind. 

“Just do what I say, Sam. Please?” 

“Dean—”

“I’m going to bed. I’ll call you on Monday.” He hangs up, knowing that Sam is too. He’s too angry for goodbyes. Dean drags his hands down his face and groans. Why is he so bad at reaching him? The older Sam gets, the farther apart they grow. Sam can’t choose if he wants to be a hunter or go to college. He detests their father for wanting to make that choice for him and he can’t stand Dean for trying to let him make the choice alone. But maybe he’s just being a normal teenager. Because he goes from angrily hanging up to rushing to Dean’s hospital bedside. He goes from telling Dean not to treat him like a child to curling up on the other side of Dean’s bed and falling asleep soundly. 

Dean makes his way slowly down the hallway, his legs aching with small bursts of pain. His medicine has worn off. He winces and takes careful steps toward the bed. His side is obvious. Cam set up pillows for his legs to be propped up on. Kayla’s card is on the nightstand next to the glass that holds a single rose. 

“Cam?” Dean closes the door behind him and Cameron pokes his head out of the bathroom where he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth. “Nevermind.”

“No, tell me,” he says around the toothbrush. 

He hesitates. Other injuries, he muscles through the pain and deals with it. He’s bitten on belts while his dad gave him stitches with dental floss before. He shouldn’t need any help. “Where’s the medicine?” 

“Mm.” Cameron nods and grabs a bottle off the bathroom to show Dean.

Dean joins him, brushing his teeth quickly so they can go to bed. It’s not late. He knows Cameron is doing this entirely for Dean’s benefit. He would say thanks, but Cam would deny it. He leans against him instead. 

Cameron leaves for all of five minutes to tuck Kayla in and say goodnight while Dean takes his medicine and sits on the edge of the bed. They strip down to their boxers and Dean feels a small leap within his heart when his clothes are thrown into the same hamper as Cam’s. They get into bed but neither turn a light out. 

“Thanks,” Dean says quietly. Cam smiles a little and nods. He pulls Cameron to him and kisses him gently, his hands starting on his face, but falling to his chest. It feels like too long since they’ve kissed. His lips are warm and his hand is in Dean’s hair. 

There’s no urgency or pressure to go further from either of them. The kiss stays sweet and tender. When their lips part, Cameron rests their foreheads together. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s only like nine,” Dean argues, though he’s about ready to sink below the covers and sleep forever. “What’ll you do?”

“Read mostly. Watch over you. Protect you.” He’s still beating himself up about not being able to tell that Roger had been a televita even though he’d been a patient and they’d seen each other every day. He’s still mad that he hadn’t been able to keep Dean safe. He’s still in pain from hearing Dean’s screams and being unable to go to him. 

“Hold me?” Dean asks, scooting down. Cameron pulls the blankets up around Dean and moves down with him, curling around him, his arm draping over Dean’s chest, his face nuzzled into his neck. “I’m not from a place where everyone says they love each other all the time. Or ever.” 

“Sounds like a sad place,” Cameron murmurs. 

“I’m not used to it, but I’m not used to feeling like this.” Dean plays with Cam’s fingers for a moment and sighs. “I didn’t think I’d fall in love.” 

“Me neither.”

“I love you.” He could say it over and over to Cameron and not get tired of it. And Cameron lights up when Dean says it. He gets that grin. His eyes shine and seem to brighten. 

“I love you too,” Cam whispers. Dean’s lips twitch into a smile even as he drifts off to sleep wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms. 


	13. Chapter 13

“Where have you been all this time and what do you do, you magical, mystical human being, you?” 

It’s a lot meeting Jenny. 

Dean is panicking. 

She says she wants to know everything. Dean doubts it. No one ever wants to know everything. They want the happy highlights. The socially acceptable glimpses. No one wants to know everything. That’s why they turn a blind eye to people in need. That’s how they live among monsters and witches without knowing a thing. 

He’s not used to this. He can talk to Cameron, but that’s different. They just click. It helps that Cameron knows that monsters and hunters exist so he can share that part. He knows a little about the abuse, but not a lot. But no one cares about if he makes it out of the hospital. Now… Now is different and it’s coming down on him all at once. There’s his boyfriend. His first boyfriend ever and he cares with his entire being what happens to Dean. There’s this little girl who makes cards with glitter and markers and likes superheroes who cried into him the night before because she cares so much. And there’s a woman he only just met and she somehow gives a shit if he’s hurt, if he’s okay. 

He can pull a story out of his ass any day and hide behind his fake IDs and faker stories, but this is different. He can tell lies smoothly to cops. He can hustle angry and drunk men at pool. He can give a wink and a sly smile and end up taking a stranger to bed. Most of the time he’s asked questions about who he is and what he’s doing here, he’s handcuffed to a metal table at a precinct and has lies ready behind his confident grin. He’s not at a wooden table, holding his boyfriend’s hand like a lifeline and feeling the blood drain from his face. 

“I…” Is it possible to die of a heart attack at 18? 

Who is he today? Normally, he has a story. He’s a reporter. He’s a trainee. He’s a college student majoring in forensics, criminology, ancient history, or mythology. He’s a talent scout, stunt man, photographer, son of a billionaire, or a rockstar. But he’s none of those things. He’s been those things every day but he’s never been one of those things in his life. 

He’s Dean Winchester. He’s a hunter, a soldier as disposable and invisible as a tissue that’s been dropped behind a dresser. He’s a high school dropout with two pennies to his name. He’s a brother, son, mother, father, and adult but never a child. He can take apart and reassemble a gun as fast as any military trained operative, pack shotgun shells with rock salt, and keep a running inventory of every weapon in the arsenal of the Impala’s trunk at any given moment but he’s never changed a lightbulb or the batteries in a fire alarm. Dean has never had a hobby. He’s never had time. 

“I… Uh…” He’s either going to throw up or hyperventilate. 

“Dean’s family moves around a lot,” Cameron says like they haven’t been sitting at the table in complete silence for ten minutes waiting for Dean to answer. It probably hasn’t been ten minutes. Dean still feels like he’s choking, his heart pounding so hard he can hear it. 

“Like you?” Jenny asks. Dean can’t look at her. He’s still crushing the bones in Cameron’s hand as he tries to keep his breathing steady. 

“No, not like me.” He might try squeezing Dean’s hand for reassurance or even in a silent question of if Dean is okay, but Dean hasn’t eased his own grip enough. 

He’s not even really a babysitter. He just happened to qualify for the job. He’s not a mechanic even though he fixed Cameron’s car. He’s not a genius like Kayla thinks even though he can help her with math homework and spelling. He’s not part of this world. He bounced from school to school and even managed to get expelled from a few. He’s jumped from motel room to motel room to Bobby’s house to Sonny’s reform home. But she’s graduated from high school. She graduated from college. She has two loving parents who are still alive and like to spend the holidays with her. The last holiday Dean celebrated was Christmas and his dad had been too busy or too drunk to make an appearance. She lives in a world without monsters. Dean lives in a world with only monsters. He looks up at Jenny and wonders what he can tell her that wouldn’t be a devastating shock.

“I don’t know,” Dean finally answers. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Kayla asks. He looks over at her and knits his eyebrows together. “You read all the time. And you told me you like to drive. And you make yummy food.” 

“I do not read all the time,” Dean argues. He’s too dumb to read all the time. Everyone says it. Everyone thinks it even if they don’t say it. He reads when he thinks no one’s looking or when he’s alone. 

“Yeah-huh,” she says, nodding. “You read Dad’s books when I do my homework.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“And you like comics. You said Batman was your favorite. And then we played that I was Wonder Woman and someone stole my invisible jet. Remember?” How do you argue with that? Dean feels his heart rate begin to return to normal. 

“Yeah…” 

“But you hate airplanes and jets are like airplanes.” How does she do that? She knows him better than his own dad does and he’s only known her for a short time. It’s the collected pieces of who she sees when she’s with him. He sounds like a normal guy. Because that’s what she sees. She doesn’t see a broken toy soldier. She sees a guy who tried to play soccer with her, loves Batman, sings when he drives, reads when it’s quiet, and makes food that she loves. 

“Do you need some water?” Jenny asks. “Cameron? Dean?” She glances at Kayla, but her glass of juice is still half-full. The tension that had only existed in Dean seems to snap. The pressure is eased off of him and no one is fixated, waiting on his answers, his life. 

“Thanks,” Cameron says. Jenny heads to the kitchen and Dean lets go of Cam’s poor hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean says, checking to be sure he didn’t actually break anything. Cameron flexes his fingers and stretches out his hand but he keeps his eyes on Dean. “I’m fine.” And he means it. 

“So, what happened earlier?” Cameron asks as he sits on the couch beside Dean.

“Mm?” Dean puts the deck of cards he’d been shuffling down for a moment. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. What happened?” He’s actively trying not to use his therapist voice. “You were having a panic attack.”

“She doesn’t know,” Dean says. He’d already known she didn’t know, but when Jenny had returned from washing her hands in the bathroom before breakfast earlier, she had commented on how Cameron still hadn’t fixed the mirror. “About you or ghosts or demons or hunters or any of it. Kayla doesn’t know. I’m a hunter. I don’t have a normal job. I didn’t think there was more.”

“But there’s so much more,” Cam says. Dean looks up at him and lets himself be seen. “I didn’t fall for you because you’re a hunter. You’re so much more than that.” 

“No. It’s because of my perky nipples, isn’t it?” 

Cameron laughs at the unexpected joke and nods. “It is. You caught me. Can’t think about anything else when I’m with you. The cold weather helps.” 

Dean deals the cards as he smiles. Cam picks up his hand and makes a tragic noise that’s either to throw Dean off or he’s really that bad at blackjack. 

“What does Jenny do?” Dean asks. They had steered clear of talk of jobs after Dean’s momentary panic. They’d talked about other things like if everyone was a dog or cat person. Dean had told everyone he was allergic to cats and hadn’t decided if he ever wanted a dog. They seemed like they’d make a good companion but they shed and drool. It’s not something his dad would allow, but he and Sam had talked about it before. Besides, it would be cruel to have a dog and be a hunter. Kayla had said she definitely was a dog person and had begged to go to the ASPCA with Jenny after breakfast. Jenny loves all animals but had never owned a cat before. She grew up with no less than three dogs in her house at a time. And Cameron, of course, is a dog person. 

“Hmm?” Cameron looks up from his cards. “Oh. She does therapy like me. We shared a major in college. She just does art therapy and works mostly with kids and teenagers.” 

Dean feels a stab of jealousy for not having known Cameron for longer than two weeks. He wishes he’d known him for as long as it already feels like they have. A year, maybe. Ten years. Thirty. Fifty. He wants to diminish the age gap and go back in time so he could have more time with him. 

They play a hand. Cameron loses. He’d kept taking cards even when he should have stopped. He could have won with his 17. Dean deals again. 

“What were you like in high school?” Cameron asks. “I mean like John Hughes movie trope here.” 

“Burnout,” Dean says without having to think much. “Let me guess. You were Brains.” 

“I was a weird lovechild of Brains and Burnout,” Cameron says with a smirk. “Hit me.”

“No. No way. I can already see you have more than enough to be over 21 right now. Do you know how to play blackjack at all?” He looks up from his cards with an innocent look. “Do you?”

“I learned once a very long time ago,” he says defensively as Dean tips his cards to see how much he actually has. 

“Well, a card count of 36 is definitely not going to win you a round of 21,” Dean says. “Just say something. I’ll teach you.” Dean takes the cards back and starts shuffling as he explains point values. “Every time you win, I’ll kiss you,” Dean says.

“Who says I don’t already know how to play and this is what I was hoping for the entire time?” Cam asks. He’s bluffing, but it’s cute. 

“Then I win either way.” Dean smiles and winks. He watches Cameron melt and deals the cards. They don’t last five rounds before there are cards all over the living room while they make out heavily, Dean pressed into the couch under Cameron. He’d only won two of the five rounds, but two kisses was enough. 

They’re pulling at each other like neither will ever have enough. Their lips crash together as Dean’s hands slide under Cameron’s shirt, his hands pressing to his back, fingers digging in and grasping for him. He can feel how hard Cam is, their hips pressed together. 

Dean lets his hands take in every curve of Cameron’s back and sides before he moves to the front and hastily unfastens his pants. He reaches into his boxers and bites Cameron’s lip as he gasps when Dean’s finger teases the tip of his dick. 

“Sit back,” Dean murmurs into him. Cameron carefully gets off of Dean and sits on the other side of the couch, hair wild, lips pinker for having been kissed, and pants still open. Dean moves to position himself between his boyfriend’s legs as he pulls the pants away from his prize. 

Dean licks the tip, hand closing around the shaft before he closes his mouth around Cameron. The moan he pulls from him is gorgeous. Cameron’s fingers run through Dean’s hair as his head falls back. Dean watches him as he licks and sucks, slicking his dick with spit as his hand pumps. 

“Dean…” Cam groans. He’s already coming apart under Dean. His back arches a little, eyes closed and head back as he bites his own lip. Dean doesn’t let up, head bobbing faster as he lets himself get messier. He slurps and sucks harder just to feel Cam’s hand tighten in his hair. 

When precum beads, it doesn’t have a chance. Dean licks it up, savoring the salty flavor and dragging his tongue around Cameron’s tip. He watches his adam’s apple bob as he lets out small noises. They’re not quite moans, but louder than whimpers, and they are perfect. 

“Fuck!” Cameron gasps after Dean works him to the edge. “Dean!” he moans, one hand tight in Dean’s hair, the other grabbing a fistful of the blanket that’s hanging over the back of the couch. Dean feels him come in his mouth. He swallows quickly, the taste of him everywhere. 

When the wave is over, Dean pulls away a little and Cameron looks down at him, his chest still heaving. A small amount of come still leaks and Dean licks it, making Cam suck in a harsh breath. Still sensitive and still looking at Dean like he’s the only guy in the world. His hand falls away from Dean’s hair, fingers grazing his cheek and jaw, stopping only when Dean turns his face to kiss his thumb. 

“No wonder you like blackjack so much,” Cameron says, still a little breathless. 

Dean sits up and grins. “Doesn’t end that way most of the time, but I’ll take it.” He watches Cam put his clothes back in order before crawling into his arms. They somehow fit perfectly together. It shouldn’t surprise Dean anymore, but it’s still new. It feels both like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and like they only found each other yesterday. 

“You don’t want anything?” Cameron asks into Dean’s hair as his arms tighten around him. 

“Not right now.” Dean presses into Cam and closes his eyes, warm with the euphoric bliss that comes with cuddling his boyfriend. He tilts his face up to accept the gentle kisses, even though his lips are still salty with the taste of him. “Can we stay like this forever?” Dean asks, their noses brushing. 

“I would say yes, but I do have work tomorrow. We have the rest of today, though.” Dean nods and curls back against his chest. Cam reaches for the remote and turns the tv on before handing it to Dean to choose what they watch.

Dean automatically scrolls to his Spanish Soap channel and drops the remote on the ground where he can reach it later. “Sundays have reruns so I can catch up and get you up to date,” he explains. “Maria was in deep shit last time I watched.” 

“Oh no, Maria. Tell me everything.”   
  
Dean smiles. “Okay, so…”


	14. Chapter 14

The thing about recovering from an injury is that usually, Dean doesn’t allow himself to take the time to rest. He might put some ice on it and sleep it off between hunts, but this is the first time he’s taken longer than a day. That doesn’t mean he’s magically healed other times. Far from it. He just learned to grin and bear it. Also, crutches suck. They rub and irritate. He doesn’t need them anyway. He can walk just fine. He’d ditched them after Cameron had gone to work anyway. 

He’d also stopped taking the painkillers. He can put them in the med kit in the back of the Impala when his Dad gets back. Then, if there are more serious injuries down the line, they’ll have something to help. But it’s been days. He can deal with the ache. He has physical therapy tomorrow and plans on making it his first and last appointment. He considered cancelling altogether but Cameron insisted and said he would come with him. Maybe he can cancel anyway and tell Cameron they had to reschedule. He can walk just fine. The stitches are irritating, but he has to wait for the wounds to heal before he can take them out. No point going to the doctors for that either. 

Doctors complicate things for hunters. If Dean were a normal nobody, he’d probably prefer to keep his pain dulled and every scratch, flu, and immunization recorded and filed away. But he has fake insurance under a mostly fake name that will have to be scraped clean or burned up and made new before he lands his ass in another hospital after another hunt or fight. He has to remain untraceable now. It’s better to vanish after such high exposure from the news too. At least they never got a name to report for him.

Besides, the crutches were only supposed to be used until the physical therapist saw him anyway. And the pain really isn’t that bad. His left leg is worse than his right so he favors it a little throughout the day, but it’s fine. 

Dean rests most of the day anyway. He reads and watches his shows until it’s time to call Sam. He leans against the wall as he dials Sam’s motel room. He hopes he picks up. There’s a chance he’s mad enough to not pick up at all. Or maybe he’s run away again. He could have changed r— 

“Hello?”

“How was school?” Dean asks. 

“Where are you?” Still mad. 

Dean sighs. He could tell the truth. He could tell him that he met a guy who took his breath away and he’s actually living with him and his daughter for a little bit. He could tell him about how he’s been contemplating leaving the life completely, their mom’s killer found or not, just to stay with Cam and have a real life. He could tell him that they can get him into school here, move Sam in, stay hidden from their dad and turn their lives around before it’s too late. He wants to. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Do you want me to figure out how to trace calls?” Sam threatens. 

“It would be a good skill to have. Tracing calls. Hacking security cameras.” He’s only half-joking. And if anyone could figure out how to do those things from a crappy motel room in between math homework and an essay for history class, it’s Sam. 

“I have exams to study for,” Sam sighs. 

“Go. To. A. Party,” Dean begs. “Just one.”

“I’m not you, Dean.” There’s a long enough pause that Dean wonders if Sam hung up on him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?” If this kid says no, Dean knows that the second Cam comes home from work, they’re getting in the car and high-tailing it to Sam. 

“Yeah. I gotta go. Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

Someday, Sam won’t even remember this. It’ll be a blip among his memories. It’ll blend in with all the other times he felt abandoned by his family. It’ll fade. 

Guilt gnawing at him and nothing to do, Dean turns to the kitchen and starts pulling out the cookbooks to find something he can make from the ingredients Cam already has all over the kitchen. Normally, with this kind of feeling pulling at his heart and twisting his gut, he would go out and find something to kill or just go driving for a few hours. He doesn’t have a car with him at the moment and he’s fresh out of monsters to gank. 

Dean missteps and lands too hard on his left foot which makes him trip. He catches himself on the counter and sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. He probably ripped a stitch. He glances down and frowns when he sees blood blossoming on the back of his jeans. He feels it drip down his leg and sighs. He keeps a sewing kit for sticky situations but it’s across the house in Cameron’s room at the bottom of his duffle bag. 

Dean grabs a paper towel and lifts his jeans to press it to his leg before going to Cameron’s room. It’s a weird limp because he’s bent over to keep the paper towel over the tear so he doesn’t bleed all over the house, but at least no one’s here to see it. He grabs his duffle bag from the closet and goes to the bathroom to fix up his leg. It’s something he’s used to doing in worse circumstances. He finishes quicker than usual and stashes the kit away again before cleaning up and going back out to the kitchen to actually cook. 

By the time Dean hears the garage door open and Cameron’s car pull in, the house smells delicious. Italian spices swirl in the air. He has no idea what he just made or how to pronounce it, but it smells amazing. The timer goes off and he pulls the garlic bread out of the oven. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Dean calls when he hears the door open. 

“Hey… you…” Cam trails off and Dean looks over at him. “I thought I was making dinner tonight so you could rest.” His eyes move from Dean to look for the crutches. They finally land on where they’d fallen earlier. “Have you been walking without your crutches all day?”

“I don’t need ‘em,” Dean says, going back to stirring the pot on the stove. “I forgot about you cooking. I…” He waves his hand vaguely, not wanting to bring up the weirdness with Sam. “Does it matter?”

“You’re supposed to be resting and taking care of yourself.” He sounds disappointed and a little worried. He leaves his things by the door and walks over to Dean’s crutches that are still by the table. “Dean!”

“What?” 

“You’re bleeding!” Dean looks down at his jeans. He forgot to change his pants after sewing himself back together. “Go sit down and I can finish this.” 

“I’m fine and it’ll be done in like five minutes,” Dean argues. “Go change.”

“You shouldn’t even be putting weight on it right now.” Is this really going to be their first fight? Whether or not Dean sits down and takes care of his recently injured leg? “Just sit down.”

“Seriously? I’m fine.” He can’t help feeling his anger rise. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t need a doctor’s note to fucking stand. “Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything. Why are you arguing? You’re supposed to be resting! Just sit!” 

A strong wave of nausea hits Dean with the pounding headache and foggy feeling he’s all too familiar with. He walks out of the kitchen and goes to the living room to sit on the couch. As soon as he’s sitting, the fog recedes and Dean grabs his head as a scream rips from his throat. He’s doubled over, eyes shut tight as he swallows the bile that rises in his throat. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. Dean, I’m sorry,” Cameron says quickly, running over to him. 

“Don’t touch me!” Dean yells, pulling away from him. “What the  _ fuck _ ?” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—” 

“You just what? Forgot that the reason you want me to sit down so bad is because some asshole tried to kill me a few days ago using the same bullshit powers you have?” Dean seethes. 

“But you’re safe. You know that. I just wanted you to sit down,” he tries but Dean shakes his head. 

“Yeah, and before that I was told to walk, sit on the couch, stop fighting, stop walking up the stairs, stop moving. That’s not really all that threatening, is it?” he snaps. “Get the fuck out of my head.” 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He does look sorry and he keeps saying it. Part of Dean wants to go to him just to take the sadness out of his eyes, the tension out of the room, the hurt out of them both. But another part of Dean is furious and scared. 

“You didn’t think I’d even know, did you? You don’t know what it feels like.” Dean waits for an answer and Cam shakes his head slowly. “It feels like a bulldozer tearing through your brain and The Mist between you and your own thoughts. It feels like you have control but you’re confused about your own fucking actions. You can  _ feel _ it.” Cameron flinches. 

“I didn’t mean to do it. I mean— I guess I did, but— It’s like raising your voice. It’s not like I tried to do anything to you. I was just mad. You’re supposed to be taking care of yourself. We have your appointment tomorrow—”

“Fuck that. I’m not going. I know how to walk,” Dean cuts him off. 

“Do you know how to take care of yourself at all? You were stabbed. You have stitches that look like you tore them by being a dumbass. You’re only here to recover. So why won’t you let yourself recover?” 

“I am  _ not _ only here to recover!” Dean yells, skipping over the point. He knows his well being is significantly lower than everyone else’s. He protects Sam. He saves innocent people. He babysits and cares for a 7 year old. It doesn’t really matter if his stitches tear, he cries out in pain, or dies. He could have gone with his dad to go find the demon and act like the soldier he is. He chose to stay here. Recovery was just a good excuse. 

“Okay, if not for you, then why couldn’t you just listen to me?” Cameron asks. “Why couldn’t you just rest and wait for me to come home?” 

“I don’t care about me!” Dean yells. Cameron looks like he’s been slapped in the face. “I really don’t,” Dean laughs humorlessly. “My legs? They’ll get better whether I use my crutches or not. If the stitches tear, I’ll sew myself back up.”

“You’re not a ragdoll, Dean.” 

“No. I’m a hunter.” The word sounds like a curse now. It used to feel like a purpose. Now it’s just a death sentence. “I’m not allowed to sit down. I’m not allowed to care about myself. I’m supposed to save people. It doesn’t matter if my leg hurts. Walk it off and go kill some evil sons of bitches. So I’m walking it off, but I’m  _ here. _ I stayed  _ here. _ ” 

“Why? You don’t give a shit about what I want and you clearly don’t care about trying to get better.” The pain in his voice cuts through Dean. 

“I don’t give a shit if you want me to sit like a dog,” Dean says. “I care about if you had a good day. I care about if you’re happy. I can’t sit here and wait for my leg to magically feel better while I wait for you to come home. I have to do  _ something _ . But I can’t  _ do _ anything. I can make you dinner to show you I care, but I can’t sit down.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cameron says, voice smaller than Dean’s ever heard it. “I didn’t mean… It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” Dean finally lets himself take a breath and walk into Cameron’s arms. It feels different, but not bad. They fold into each other and Dean feels Cameron’s hand resting at the nape of his neck, holding them together. “I want you to care about you.”

“I’ve spent fourteen years being told I didn’t matter,” Dean whispers. “I’ll try.”

“How?”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promises even though he doesn’t want to. He still thinks it’s dangerous for there to be a record out there of how this injury is healing. “Just promise me something.”

“What?” 

“You’ll never do that to me again.” He means it. He can’t handle it. Not from Cameron. 

“I promise I’ll never do that to you again,” he says, holding Dean tighter. They stay like that for a moment before Dean hears a splutter from the kitchen

“Dinner’s burning,” Dean says, stepping away from him. He feels his heart sink as he walks in and sees the scorched tomatoes. He can’t even do this. He turns off the heat and moves the pot to the other burner. 

“It’s okay,” Cameron says. “It’s not ruined.”

“Fuck!” Dean hangs his head and takes a deep breath as he braces his hands on the counter. Sam thinks he’s abandoned him. Cameron thinks he stayed to recover. 

“Dean, it’s fine.” 

“I’m not here because a doctor told me to,” Dean says, the fight still apparently in him, only stoked by the burned food. It was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to be a nice meal for Cameron to come home to after working all day. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “I’m here because I want to be here with you. I’m here because I’m afraid that when I go, this will be over. I’m here because I want to be the one to make you dinner and fix your car and kiss you goodnight. But I can’t cook for shit, your car is perfectly fine, and you were fine before I walked in.” 

He steps past Cameron and walks to the room, his jaw clenched tight. He slams the door just to have some kind of noise that isn’t his own footsteps walking away or his heart pounding in his chest. Cameron deserves better. A better dinner. A better boyfriend. Just… better. 

Dean crumples to the floor beside the bed and covers his face with his hands. He breathes slowly through his hands. This is when Cameron realizes that he’s better off without this mess of a human being taking up his space. This is when Dean realizes that losing his temper and admitting he hates himself are two qualities that aren’t wanted. 

There’s two light knocks on the door. Dean’s stomach twists. His nose burns, threatening the tears that will spill if he loses Cameron. Tears that already want to slip down his cheeks because everything is falling apart. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah…” 

The door opens slowly and Cameron steps inside. He walks over to him, sitting beside him. Their shoulders don’t touch. There’s an ocean of space between them. Dean braces himself for the words that maybe this was a mistake. That they shouldn’t have moved so fast. That Dean should go before things get worse. 

“I had a bad day too,” Cameron says softly. “And I’m guessing this is about more than dinner and me fucking up.” He turns his head and looks over at Dean. There is no smile. He just looks tired and sad before he looks away again, staring straight ahead at the closet door as he rests his head against the bed. “I didn’t want to go to work in the first place. People are scared because of Marie and they want to talk about it because obviously it’s impacting them at least a little. But they bring it up and all I can think about is why I didn’t want to go to work in the first place.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I love when you cook me dinner,” he says. “No one’s ever really cooked for me before. Or cared to try out new recipes. I’ve never even opened the book you were cooking from.” 

“I ruined it.” 

“So, it’s not perfect.” Cameron shrugs. “It’ll still taste great. If it doesn’t, we can just go grab something out and make a date of it. My car… Doesn’t need fixing right now but the second she does, you’ll be the only one under that hood.” 

“Cam…”

“And I love kissing you goodnight. I love kissing you in the morning when we wake up. I love kissing you while you cook, shower, read, watch tv, or just walk near me.” Dean looks over at him and Cameron turns his head again to face him. “I love you and that’s not changing because of a crappy day. Tell me what happened.”

“Sam’s mad at me. He thinks I’m ditching him. I realized he might be right.” Dean takes a deep breath. He wants Cameron to hold him or move closer so he can lean on him. He wants to feel his warmth and be comforted with his touch. “I heard myself fighting with you and thought I was losing you.” 

“You’re not losing me.” 

“Then why are you sitting all the way over there?” 

Cameron moves closer and pulls Dean against him. “Are we done fighting?” he asks after pressing a kiss to Dean’s shoulder. Dean nods. “Can we go eat and cuddle on the couch instead of the floor?” Dean nods again and reluctantly untangles himself from his boyfriend. 

He follows Cam out of the room, their hands clasped tightly together. Dean realizes how much trouble he’s in because he would give up everything to stay here with the man he loves. Hunting and revenge holds nothing in comparison to the love Cameron has breathed into his life. 


	15. Chapter 15

Cameron passes behind Dean in the kitchen. It’s still too small a space for both of them. They brush every time. Only now, Cameron presses a kiss to Dean’s neck when they move past each other. Dean turns and grabs his hand, pulling him back and kissing him full on the mouth. They both smile against the other’s lips before their arms wind around each other. 

It’s a good thing Dean finished making the hot cocoa before Cameron came in. They crash into the opposite side of the kitchen, Dean pressed between the counter and a hard place. He pulls at Cameron, arms over his shoulders, hands in his hair. Fingers dig into Dean’s hips as their tongues meet. His lips are soft and hot, insistent. The urgency starts to build, their bodies pressed together to the point that there’s no space left between them. 

“Does this mean you’re getting married?” Kayla asks excitedly. Dean and Cameron part quickly and Dean looks away, running a hand through his hair as he bites his lip. It does nothing to hide his embarrassed smile. 

“I thought you went to bed,” Cameron says. “You know, after you showered, brushed your teeth, got into your pajamas, had Dean and I each read you a story, got your goodnight kisses, and we said goodnight?” 

“I was thirsty. Are you getting married?” She asks again. Dean laughs in spite of himself. It’s all she can talk about when the three of them are together. She’s also asked if she can be a groomsman and if she’ll meet Sam at the wedding. 

“Go to bed. Come on.” Cameron leads her back to her bedroom. Dean sighs and grabs the cocoa from the counter and goes to the living room. When Cam comes back, he’s smiling and shaking his head. Dean hands him his mug as he sits close enough to Dean that there’s no room between them. “She said something about you two going on an adventure tomorrow.”

“Okay, that was supposed to be a surprise,” Dean says into his mug.

“For who?” Cam asks, raising an eyebrow. Dean wants to throw his drink and climb Cameron like a tree, but he stays where he is and takes another sip. 

“You.” 

“What kind of a surprise?” he presses with a grin.

Dean puts his mug down and takes Cameron’s face between his hands. “A present kind of surprise so stop being so damn nosy.” He kisses him. It was supposed to be a teasing kiss with blushes and smiles. But then Cameron lets his drink join Dean’s and kisses him back, pulling him on top of him. Dean straddles him and bites his lip, their chests flush together. 

“I just wanted to kiss you,” Dean says in a small groan as Cameron’s lips caress his neck. 

“I want you,” Cameron says into him. Dean grinds their hips together in answer, making Cam suck in a quick breath. 

“We’re going to get caught again,” Dean whispers as he dips his head to kiss Cameron again. His lips graze his cheek before he catches his mouth. 

“My door has a lock,” Cameron manages breathlessly. Dean smiles and lets himself be picked up, wrapping his legs more securely around his boyfriend’s waist. He has to walk blindly to his room, too busy kissing Dean to stop. As soon as they make it inside, the lock clicks and clothes are flung. 

Locked doors and beds afford them comforts and positions they don’t have in Cameron’s office. They don’t usually have sex when Dean visits him at work. Normally, they talk and share lunch while they laugh. A lot of the time, they make out in a chair or against a wall. Not today, though. Today, Dean had sat in Cam’s lap to interrupt his last minute notes and ended up with his pants around his ankles, Cameron buried deep inside of him as he rocked his hips. Cam had worked his shaft as he moaned into Dean to muffle the sounds.

Now, Dean is sprawled on the bed, thrown there, naked and exposed. Which just happens to be his favorite as long as it’s Cameron’s eyes raking over him, Cameron’s hands caressing him, Cameron’s lips against his burning skin. Dean is pinned to the bed, their fingers intertwined, bodies begging for them to stop teasing each other. 

Dean loves the way it feels when Cameron slides into him. He has to muffle his moan at the feeling of being filled. He won’t need much tonight to fall over the edge in a quivering mess. Not after the grinding. Not with Cameron’s thrusts hitting his prostate every time. Definitely not with Cameron’s delicious mouth swallowing every whimper that comes from Dean. 

For the second time tonight, Dean feels himself filled with Cameron’s come. He shudders and bites down on his own lip to stifle the sounds that usually accompany his climax. Dean keeps him coming, rolling his hips and kissing wherever he can reach. 

“Fuck, Dean,” Cameron pants quietly. 

“You just did, but I could go again,” Dean answers, his own breaths coming quickly. Cameron laughs even as he kisses him. Their lips remain touching, starved for the other’s touch, even when they’re laughing too hard to keep going. 

“It wasn’t even that funny,” Cam says. 

“No, not really,” Dean agrees. But it’s infectious and they can’t stop. Laughing like this feels like the most intimate thing Dean has ever taken part in. He revels in it, hoping to capture the feeling of this bubbly elation and keep it forever. 

They do eventually stop. Cameron pulls out and they go to the bathroom together to clean up at the same time. Post-coital clean-up mixes with bedtime routine, their tandem washing turning to teeth brushing without much thought. 

“Hey, Cam?” Dean asks, toothbrush still in his mouth. Cameron looks over at him and raises his eyebrows. He realizes after attempting to speak again that there is too much in his mouth to be able to be understood. He takes the toothbrush out. “What’s in the box in the closet?” Toothpaste drool tries to escape and he sucks it up in the least attractive way. Cameron laughs. 

“Box?” He thinks for a moment. “Oh. Just old pictures.” He waves his hand dismissively like it wouldn’t interest Dean. He spits and rinses, dropping his toothbrush into the holder before walking back into the room. 

“Of who?” Dean asks, following him as quickly as he can. 

“Me.” He shrugs. “My mom. There’s some toys in there too, I think. Just the things I could keep.” He pulls on his boxers and a pair of warm pajama pants. Dean grabs his boxers and Cameron’s robe from the closet. He looks at the box on the floor. 

Dean has pictures in his duffle. There’s one of him and his mom, probably taken by John. It’s the only picture he has of her. There’s also a polaroid of Sam giving Dean the finger for the first time, jaw set and angry, but his eyes starting to show the shine of amusement. The motel room around him is a mess and barely developed. The rest of the family photos were probably burned in the fire. John doesn’t have any. He thinks Sam might have one, but he doesn’t remember which one it is. 

Dean grabs his bag and finds the two pictures before zipping it back up and handing them to Cameron. “That’s my brother,” Dean says as Cameron looks at it. “I mean. He’s older now.” 

“Is this the only picture you have of him?” It’s not a mean question. Especially the way he says it. His voice is soft and he looks up at Dean like he understands or wants to understand all of him. Dean nods. Cam looks back down and switches the photos to look at Mary and little Dean. “Your mom?”

“Yeah.” He already knows the story. He already knows that Dean doesn’t have many memories with her left. He knows that he’s holding the last piece of her Dean really has.

“Look at you,” Cameron grins. “You’re so  _ cute _ .”

“Hey. No. I had a bowl cut,” Dean says, trying not to laugh or blush from the embarrassment. 

“She’s beautiful,” he says more seriously, handing the photos back to him. Dean nods and puts them back in his duffle before plopping onto the bed just as Cam gets up. He grabs the box from the closet and sets it on his lap. The box is barely full. Marbles roll around in the bottom of it, clinking together. It sounds like a miniature roller rink. 

“Your marbles.”

“My marbles,” Cameron smiles. He ignores them and picks up a picture of a woman with curled dark hair and shining brown eyes in a polka dot dress and a smile that matches Cameron’s. He hands it to Dean and waits. 

“You look so much like her,” Dean says. 

“Do I?” Cameron looks over Dean’s shoulder at her. 

“You have the same smile. You have her eyes.” Dean lets him look for a second more before he holds up the picture next to Cameron. He mimics her expression and holds the pose. “Yup. Definitely hers.” 

Cameron takes the photo back and hands Dean two more. One is of a baby set up at one of those Sears photo rooms. He’s sitting next to an oversized block letter of a C and playing with actual letter blocks. The back of the picture is a Happy Mother’s Day greeting written in ballpoint pen signed, “Love you always, Lionel.” 

“Your dad was a televita, wasn’t he?” Dean asks quietly as he looks at the handwriting. 

“Yeah. He told me all about it when I was pretty little. I remember the conversation.” He takes the picture back and runs his fingers over the swirly writing. “Stressful conversation for a 5 year old. I figured I’d wait until Kayla was older to talk to her about it. I don’t really know what the right answer is.” 

He puts it back in the box and Dean looks down at the last picture. A preteen version of Cameron is sitting in front of a mirror in black and white. He’s the one holding the camera. His other hand is waving. The expression on his face says that it’s a goodbye rather than a hello. 

“Last picture?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah.” Dean looks over at him as he hands it back. “I’d just started getting my…” He wakes his hand, still reluctant to use the word. “Every once in a while, my reflection wouldn’t show up when I passed a window or mirror.” 

“Were you scared?” 

“I was more nervous than scared. I’d known it was going to happen for a long time. I was more scared of being alone than anything.” He smiles sadly. “But I don’t really look at it much anymore.”

“Why not?” Dean finds comfort in looking at the last picture of his mom. He says goodnight to her sometimes. He tries to remember what her voice had sounded like when she would tell him that angels were watching over him. 

“I like my life now.” He smiles and closes the box. “Also, Jenny thinks I just don’t like having my picture taken. She only tried once and thought I ducked in time.” Cameron puts the box back and turns to face Dean. “Thanks.”

“For what?” 

“Wanting to see. Sharing with me.” He shrugs. Dean smiles and takes Cameron’s hand to kiss it. “Want to go cuddle?” 

“Hell yeah, I do.” 

They go out to the living room where their two abandoned mugs are still sitting on the table. Cameron takes them to the kitchen while Dean goes in search of the best blankets. There are giant blankets in the closet. He grabs the fuzziest and brings it back to the couch, wrapping himself in it as he peeks over the back of the couch to watch Cameron finish the dishes. 

When Cameron comes over to join him, Dean wraps him in the blanket and cuddles close. Their noses brush together and Dean presses a small kiss to his lips. 

“I know it’s still a while away, but are you staying for Christmas?” Cameron asks. Dean doesn’t answer. He wants to but unless he breaks his leg on purpose or leaves hunting for good, he’ll probably have to go back by then. “You said something about presents…”

“Just a present. Not holiday related,” Dean says. “And stop asking questions. It’s a surprise.” 

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up under the blanket. “Just a hint?”

“No,” he laughs. “Can I drive you to work though so we have the car?” 

“Of course,” he says like it’s no big deal. It feels like a big deal, but Dean doesn’t want to point it out. “Are we still doing lunch tomorrow too?”

“Pizza?” Dean offers. Cameron nods. Their hands find each other under the blankets and Cameron plays with Dean’s fingers idly. 

The conversation becomes one of books. They talk about their favorite chapters and Dean updates him on how far he’s made it in the newest novel. Like all late-night chats seem to go, their focus fades and voices drop and eventually they’re just cuddling with Dean’s head on his chest. 


	16. Chapter 16

The mall is packed with people. It’s definitely December. Holiday lights are already hanging from the ceiling, sparkling even though it’s still light out. The pop music has been exchanged for Christmas jingles, not that anyone’s listening. Hordes of people carrying their shopping bags and chattering away about what stores to go to next, who’s hungry for what, and random family gossip fill the place. Kayla holds onto Dean’s hand as they walk through it all. 

“Why do you wear that necklace?” she asks as they pass a jewelry store. 

“My brother gave it to me.” That’s all it is. It was supposed to be some kind of supernatural amulet or something, but they never figured out what it was supposed to do. It doesn’t even really matter anymore, because it’s the last Christmas present Dean ever received. 

“I didn’t know boys could wear necklaces or rings or anything. Your bracelets aren’t even shiny.” She pulls him back to look in the window at the diamond bracelets and jewel-encrusted rings. “You should wear  _ that _ one.”

“Boys can wear that stuff,” Dean says, trying not to fidget with the leather or beads around his wrist. “I don’t like shiny things.”

“But shiny things are the best.” Her eyes are wide as she stares at the glittering diamonds. 

He laughs and tugs gently on her hand. “Come on. Let’s go find other shiny things.” She falls back into step beside him, talking as she points out different signs and stores. It’s been awhile since he’s been shopping. It isn’t the goal of the day, but being in the mall is just a reminder that he hasn’t actually bought anything in a long ass time. 

“Kayla!” another girl shrieks. Kayla lets go of Dean to sprint at her. 

“Maddy!” They collide in a hug as Dean and Maddy’s dad walk over to them. They meet while the girls start talking in practically a foreign language. 

“Martin,” the man says, holding out his hand. “Don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Dean.” They shake hands. Martin shakes like he’s making a business deal. 

“Oh. You’re the one helping Cameron out,” he says. It stings, but it’s better than him knowing the truth. Probably. Dean doesn’t say anything, pressing his lips together as he nods awkwardly. “Kayla has some of the craziest ideas.”

“What do you mean?” He can’t tell if he’s jumping into defense mode or if he’s curious about what she’s been saying, either way, he needs the answer. 

“She’s been telling Maddy that Cameron has a boyfriend. I’m sure she means girlfriend, but no one has seen that man date anyone. Not that no one’s tried.” He laughs but Dean swallows hard. 

“Right…” Dean nods. “Kids…”

“Kids,” Martin agrees, shaking his head in amusement. “They come up with the weirdest stories. We should probably get going. We have to get this shopping done before dinner.”

“But, Dad! Kayla’s going to see Anastasia with Dean! Can we go too?” Maddy whines. Martin shakes his head and she throws her head back in annoyance. 

“Nice meeting you,” Martin says with a smile. 

“Yeah. You too.” Kayla comes back to Dean and waves to her friend. “When did I say we were going to see Anastasia?” 

“Never, but now we have to,” Kayla says hopefully. 

“If we hurry, we have time. Remember, we have to pick up your dad after work.” She nods. “Pictures first.” 

The photo booth isn’t far, placed in the middle of the mall. It’s the only reason they came here. He doesn’t know when he had decided that this was a good idea, but looking at pictures together the night before had cemented the idea that Cameron would love this. 

“Wait!” Kayla says, stopping Dean from going into the booth. He stops and looks around for the reason they’re stopping. She points. Shiny things. There’s a display in a costume shop of clip-on earrings and a sparkly tiara. A small chest has costume necklaces spilling out of it like a pirate’s treasure chest. They’re all probably like a dollar each. 

“What’s the plan?” Dean asks her. 

“We can do one normal one and one with costumes on?” she asks. “Please! Pretty please with a cherry on top!” 

He’s really about to go into a costume shop to get dressed up for a goofy photo strip with her, isn’t he? Dean goes with her into the store and they get more than anticipated. She puts on the tiara and strikes a pose before grabbing a feather boa to wrap around his neck. She giggles while he puffs out his chest and looks off into the middle distance. 

“You need something,” she says, tapping her chin before running further into the store. He follows her to a bin of oversized sunglasses and leans down so she can put them on him. “Perfect!”

“Now you’re underdressed, your highness.” He digs into the same bin and finds the glasses with the big nose and mustache and fuzzy eyebrows attached. “How are these?”

“Let me try them on.” She takes them and giggles as soon as they’re on. She’s adorable. Her hair is in pigtails and that somehow makes the glasses and tiara look just that more out of place but ridiculously cute. Dean smiles. “Come on!” She turns and runs down the aisle, forcing Dean to chase after her with gigantic sunglasses and a massive feather boa. 

She’s found a mirror. She grins as she looks herself over before she taps at her neck like something’s missing. “Necklace?” Dean asks. She nods. “Stay here.” 

He walks to the front of the store and grabs three necklaces to bring back to her. They’re all pretty ridiculous. Kayla hasn’t moved at all and jumps a little when she sees what he’s brought back. He puts all three of them on her and she throws her arms up. “Yes!” 

He takes her to the check out and watches the chick at the counter smile as she looks between them. Kayla rips off the tags as soon as they’re finished being scanned and does the same for Dean’s things as he pays. 

The two of them run and plop into the photobooth with their costumes piled in Dean’s lap. The serious one first. “There’s five pictures,” Dean tells her. 

“Okay!” She hits the start button and the timer starts. 

Dean looks at the image of them, both grinning at the camera. He’s never seen himself this happy. He’s never let himself be this happy. The light flashes and Kayla throws her arms around Dean as the timer starts again. He wraps his arms around her and watches her grin so wide her eyes close as she shoves her face next to his. Flash. Kayla opens her eyes and mouth as wide as she can in an overly excited version of the Scream painting. Dean crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue, unsure of what else to do. Flash. Kayla bursts out laughing at the face Dean made and the time runs down before she’s finished laughing at him, her pure joy hopefully captured. Flash. 

“Make this shape with your hand. Quick!” Kayla says. Dean copies her, unable to keep looking at the screen. She puts her hand against his in what he guesses is supposed to be a heart but will probably end up looking like a blob. He doesn’t look up in time before,  _ Flash _ . 

They don’t bother collecting their strip, quickly donning their costumes. He pushes start and they put their hands up on either side of their heads, sticking out their tongues. She giggles until the picture is taken. Flash. They toss their boa and necklaces, puffing up their chests and making serious faces as if they’re superheroes with capes rather than two goofballs in a photobooth. Flash. 

He wishes he and Sam could do this. Maybe they can. But Sam isn’t a giggling 7 year old who loves shiny things. Flash. He missed that one. 

Kayla drapes herself over Dean’s shoulders, arms locking around his neck as she grins over his shoulder. He looks at them and smiles, his hands grabbing onto hers to keep her from choking him. Flash. Kayla doesn’t move. She just tilts her head and looks at Dean. 

He looks over at her. “What?”

“This is fun.” 

Dean is hit with how much he adores her. How he would do anything to keep her safe and happy. How her laugh is perfect and even though her hugs choke him, he wouldn’t have it any other way. How he never wants to let her down.  _ Flash _ . 

The next showing of Anastasia isn’t until after Cameron gets off work. Despite the frigid temperature, Kayla wants ice cream. Before they even walk into the shop, Dean knows that this is going to be a sticky-fingered mess. 

She wears her tiara and Dean wears his boa as they go in to order. A chick behind the counter laughs a little when she sees them and beams. “What can I get for you, your highness?” she asks, looking at Kayla. She orders a hot fudge sundae with the works. “And you?” she looks up at Dean with a flirty smile. Once upon a time, he would have winked, leaned on the counter, asked her her name, and flirted shamelessly until she blushed. He would have walked away with a free ice cream and a napkin with her number on it. 

Now he just nods toward Kayla and says, “I’ll have what she’s having.” He pulls out his wallet to pay while she goes to scoop them two hot fudge sundaes. 

On the road, he rarely gets to have treats like this. He might get a milkshake every now and then at a diner or some fast food joint as they blow through a town, but they never go to parlors just to sit down and have a bowl of ice cream. 

“Thanks,” he says as she takes the payment and he grabs the sundaes. The napkin with her number remains on the counter. He sees her drag it back to herself as he sits down with Kayla. 

It’s been less than 30 seconds and Kayla already has chocolate all over her face. Impressive. Dean takes a bite. “Oh my god.”

“Mhm!” She licks her lips. “Do you think it’s too cold to be eating ice cream?” she asks. Her legs swing under the table, unable to sit still and her feet still far above the floor. 

“No.” He takes another bite. It might be a little ridiculous to be eating ice cream in weather this cold. But it tastes so good. And he told Kayla he was treating her to a day out after school. She deserves it. There have only been some minor tantrums that Dean’s been around for and nothing that Cameron hasn’t been able to deal with. She‘s a good kid. And it’s important to Dean that she gets to be a kid at all. He’d tried with Sam, but there was no preventing it. He couldn’t shield him. 

“There’s only one more month until my birthday,” Kayla says randomly. “Plus…” She starts counting on her chocolate-covered fingers but gives up. 

“When is it?” He knows Cameron’s is March 14th. If he decides to go back to hunting, he has to make sure he’s back for March 14th. 

“January 20th.” 

“That’s four days before mine,” Dean says. Kayla’s eyes light up. Oh no. What did he just say? 

“We almost share a birthday! We can share!” She starts talking about how they can celebrate on the weekend together. He can have a pie and she can have a cake. They’ll both get presents and they can have her favorite food for lunch and his favorite for dinner (because she’s born first. This isn’t exactly true, but he doesn’t dare interrupt to correct her.) 

He thinks she’ll talk about it forever but she distracts herself with a new topic. He’s not sure when she changed subjects to her aspirations of traveling the world when she’s a soccer star, but he nods and tries to take it in stride. Maybe sugar was a bad idea. 

“Are you  _ in love _ with him?” Kayla asks from the backseat. Dean turns around in his seat to look at her. They’re parked outside of Cameron’s building. He should be down any minute and they can all go see Anastasia. 

“You know that I am,” Dean says. 

She plays with her necklaces in her lap while she looks at him seriously. “How do you know?” 

He’d thought this was going to be the thousandth conversation where she asked if they were getting married, when, or why not. He rests his chin on his hands as he lets the weight of her question sink in. “Lots of reasons. Something’s different. The way he makes me feel. I like myself more when I’m around him. I can actually be myself around him. I’ve never smiled or laughed so much in my entire life.”

“But he’s not funny,” she says, scrunching up her face. 

“He is to me,” he half-laughs. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

He knows her. She won’t let this go. Even if the conversation gets swept up because her dad gets in the car or they pause to go watch a movie. She’ll bring it up until she gets an answer that satisfies. “You’ve seen Wizard of Oz.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“You know how Kansas doesn’t have any color and looks kind of like everything is covered in dirt?” he asks. She nods, her eyebrows knitted together. “It feels like that. And then he walks in and it gets colored in.”

“Like going to Oz?” she finishes his overused analogy. He nods. “Wow.” She sits back and looks like she’s had her mind blown apart for thinking about such a way to live. It was super cheesy, but no one but her will ever know that he stooped to such levels to explain just how much Cameron means to him. 

The passenger door opens and Cameron gets in. He says hello to Kayla and leans in to give Dean a kiss. As he puts his seatbelt on, Dean looks into the backseat again. She’s grinning. 

“Colors,” she whispers, her fingers making fireworks motions. He nods and faces forward again, glancing at his rainbow. 


	17. Chapter 17

“What’re you doing?” Dean asks hesitantly, sure he doesn’t want to know the answer as Cam grabs a second pair of running shorts. 

“Your stitches are out and you could use a run. Come with me.” He grabs his running shoes from the closet and hesitates. “What size shoe do you wear?” 

“Same size as you, I think,” he answers without thinking. “I’m not going for a run with you. I don’t  _ go running _ , and baby, I don’t do shorts.” 

“ _ Baby _ ?” Cameron snorts. Dean laughs with him. Maybe it’s not for them. Doesn’t change the fact that he is not going to put on shorts in December with scars all over his calves. He crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Okay, not shorts. Sweats. Please.”

“Why?” 

“You won’t go to physical therapy and you need to stay active.” He grabs a second pair of old sneakers and hands them to Dean. “And I want to share this with you. I won’t make you go rock climbing with me, but jogging is fun. Fresh air. Long route.”

“Short route.”

Cam grins. “So, sweats?” Dean nods reluctantly, glad that no one who knows him can see this. He grabs the sweats and shoes and changes quickly before he can change his mind. 

“Sweater?” he asks. Cam grabs one and tosses it to him before he grabs his own. 

It’s still early December, so the sun isn’t yet setting at ridiculous hours. It’s only just starting to really set now and Cam says they shouldn’t be too long after dark. He has reflectors and a flashlight just in case. They wouldn’t need those things if they weren’t being ridiculous and going on an evening run together. 

“Who even goes running?” Dean asks as they start down the sidewalk. “We could be on the couch watching Seinfeld or something.” 

“Or we could be running.” Cam grins. “Is this as fast as you can go?”

“No, just didn’t want to leave your slow ass in the dirt.” He worries for a moment if he can reach his normal speeds after recovery, but he’s not even sore. They’d stretched in the driveway and he felt fine. So Dean breaks into a full run and forgets why he hates running. 

Running is something he does when he’s in the middle of a hunt, chasing down his target or escaping himself. He does it when he’s running from the cops after being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He did it once when he was left at Bobby’s and John had promised he was staying but then he pulled out of the driveway and Dean had gone running after the car, coughing on the dirt. Aside from the abandonment, the other reasons to run are filled with exhilaration and adrenaline. Running from the cops and getting away with it usually ends with Dean doubled over laughing. Hunts always have a more serious ending, but ganking the evil sons of bitches is always worth it. 

“Told you you’d like it,” Cam teases once he catches up to Dean. 

“I didn’t say I liked it,” Dean says, though yeah, it feels damn good. 

“You don’t have to.” 

They stop talking in favor of listening to their feet hit the pavement and their breaths. Their arms don’t brush even though they run side by side. They watch the sunset and Dean smiles because it’s the perfect orange for Cam. 

“Are we going again tomorrow?” Dean asks as they take their shoes off. 

“What happened to  _ you don’t run?” _ Cam teases. 

Dean sticks his tongue out at him but doesn’t take back what he said. It’s nice to run with Cameron. It felt good to go outside and move and be able to look over at his boyfriend and smile. It was a gorgeous sunset and a perfect night. No, he’ll never admit that he likes running, but he wants to do it again. 

“We can go again tomorrow.” Cam grabs them both water and takes a long gulp before giving Dean a look. “I didn’t realize you could run like that though.” 

“Thought I’d be slow?” Dean asks around two sips of water. His boyfriend shrugs. “Running is part of my job. I don’t really think of it as a fun time activity.” His downtime is spent watching tv and reading. 

“Didn’t really think about it.” They’re both overly aware that Dean is a hunter and Cam is the same kind of species that Dean was here to hunt. But it’s easy to forget both when everything is going so well. So normal. 

“Let’s shower. I’m all gross,” Dean says, moving on. Cam smiles and nods, following him to their room. 

They both step into the shower and rinse the sweat from their bodies as they kiss lazily, arms draped over Cam’s shoulders and Dean’s ass gripped in Cameron’s hands. Their slick chests press closer as Dean sucks on his tongue. Steam fills the room and it could be from the heat of the water or them.

“I love you,” Cameron murmurs into him, nose gliding over his jaw before he nuzzles into his neck to kiss more. Dean grins and hugs him to him, relishing the moment. 

“I love you,” he breathes into the steam. 


	18. Chapter 18

Cameron Smith was never supposed to fall in love. After seeing what happened to his parents, he knew it wasn’t safe for anyone to get that close to him. They could lose everything if a hunter found them. After seeing what he had done when he was 15, he’d realized that he was more dangerous than a hypothetical hunter. Accidents happened too easily and the need to feed off of the human life force was too strong. He’d learned a way around it, feasting on raw emotion in smaller increments. But he never really forgave himself for the man he’d killed, even if the asshole had deserved it. He fucked around in college, but he never settled or dated. The closest he came was Jenny. They’d been friends who were high off their asses when they had their one night stand. They lived together for Kayla’s first two years before Jenny moved out. Sure, he had friends, but he kept them at a safe distance. They were as close as anyone had been to Cameron. 

Until he met Dean. 

His breath was taken away, forced out of the entire room when they first met. He’d almost driven right past his office, mind still on those green eyes and that easy smile. He’d tried reminding himself that he’s a monster. But he’s never had that reaction before. He’s never come face to face with someone and felt like the entire world had just smacked him in the face. He’s never believed in love at first sight. So he thought he just needed to work it out alone. They couldn’t happen. He’d tried working it out alone. He’d come alone in his bed with Dean’s name trapped in his throat. It wasn’t enough. 

It’s been a month. Over a month since they met. A month since they started dating. The initial fire is still there, just burning lower, steadier. A lot has happened in their one month. Dates, their one major fight, hospital visits, and falling deeper down the well together. When they cuddle, kiss, make love, or even just talk or hold hands, it feels more right than anything else in the world ever has. When their eyes meet across the room, it feels like they can read each other and share silent conversations, private jokes. 

So when the pager goes off at 3 and Dean sits up, Cameron feels his heart sink. He rubs his eyes as Dean turns on the light and reads the message. His hair is a mess, his eyes squinting against the light. It’s selfish, but Cameron wishes he could tell him not to read it and come back to bed. He can taste Dean’s reluctance and sorrow. 

“I have to call them,” Dean says quietly. He leans over and kisses Cameron quickly before getting out of bed and grabbing the robe that’s basically his now. Cameron gets up too, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he follows Dean out to the main room. He dials the number without having to check. 

Dean turns and sees Cameron standing there. He walks over to him, the cord stretching to follow him. Just as Cameron wraps his arms around Dean, he hears a deep voice answer the phone. 

“Dad, what’s going on?” Dean asks. He doesn’t want to go. Cameron holds him tighter. He doesn’t want Dean to go either. “I— No, sir.” It’s like a wall has gone up. Dean is usually easy to read, his emotions rich and palpable. As soon as he’s on the phone with his dad, Cameron can’t feel or taste it anymore. He’s locked everything away. It’s unnerving to feel it, but Cameron doesn’t move. “Greyhound should have something heading that way. I’ll call from the station with an ETA.” There’s a pause. Cameron tries to hear what he says, but he can’t make it out. “Yes, sir.” 

Dean hangs up and the wall crumbles. The room floods with Dean’s regret and hopelessness. He turns to face Cameron again. “I have to go.” 

“You could stay,” Cameron begs softly. They’ve been here before. Only now, the time is finally here. 

“I’ll come back,” he promises. He swallows and there’s a fresh wave of grief. There’s always an  _ if _ lingering in Dean’s mind. 

“Dean…” He comes back, crossing the room quickly and folding himself into Cameron’s arms. “Don’t go.” Dean’s lips brush against Cameron’s before a painfully heartbreaking kiss. 

“I have to go,” he says again, pulling away and biting his lip. 

Dean changes his clothes before grabbing his bag from the closet. Cameron replaces his blanket with a random sweater from his drawer before pulling open the drawer of Dean’s clothes. He remembers clearing it while Dean was in the hospital. He’d thought he would have more. He’d cleared two drawers and some of the closet, but Dean’s clothes had all fit in one drawer. His coats took up two hangers. That was all he had. 

They pack his duffle bag quietly and as slowly as they can get away with without actually deciding to stop it all. As soon as he zips it, Dean sighs. 

“Can I say goodbye to her?” There’s a small possibility that she’ll wake up, but even if she does, she always falls back asleep. Cameron nods and watches from the hallway as Dean walks into the dark room. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down into her sleeping face. Cameron doesn’t need to hear him say it to feel the love that is pouring out of Dean. It mixes beautifully with the heartbreak. 

“Dean?” she whispers. 

“I have to go, princess,” Dean whispers back. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Don’t go!” She wraps her arms around him and Dean hugs her back, holding her for a moment. “Don’t go!” 

“Shh. It’ll be okay.” He takes her arms away from him and settles her back into her bed, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “I love you as high as I can reach.”

“I love you all the way up to the moon.” She’s crying. 

“I love you right up to the moon…” He kisses her forehead and stands up. “And back.” 

He leaves the room and closes the door behind him before he takes a shattered breath. “I promise I’ll come back,” he whispers, hugging Cameron tightly. “One more bag.” He goes out to the garage to retrieve his weapons bag from the trunk of the car. Cameron walks out of the hallway, heart hammering in his chest as he waits by the door. Dean walks back inside and straight back into Cameron’s arms. 

“Call me so I know you’re safe,” Cameron mutters into him, trying to kiss anywhere he can reach before he has to let go of him. “Please be safe.” 

“I love you.” When Dean says it first, it always surprises Cameron. He doesn’t like expressing his emotions with words. It’s hard for him. Cameron doesn’t even necessarily need to hear it back. He can always feel it. It’s intoxicating and addicting to feel Dean’s love as powerful as it is. It’s always a gift that Dean knows he’s giving when he says it out loud. 

“I love you too,” Cameron says. He kisses Dean’s forehead before his lips, letting it linger before watching Dean walk out the door with his duffle bag and radiant anguish. 

He doesn’t go back to sleep. He can’t. Dean has been on the other side of the bed every night. Now it's cold. His soft snores aren’t there to lull Cameron to sleep. His mind keeps bringing up thoughts of the worst. He could be kidnapped or killed. He could say or do the wrong thing and meet the end of his dad’s angry fist. 

Cameron’s heart constricts. Hot tears roll down his cheeks and he buries his face in Dean’s pillow. 

“No,” Kayla says, her scowl set as she looks the potential new babysitter up and down. Her arms are crossed over her chest. It’s the seventh that she’s said no to. 

Cameron kneels in front of her and faces her. Her nose is pink from the cold. There’s frost on the grass, but not enough to call it snow. It never actually snows here. “If you don’t pick a babysitter, you’re stuck with sitting in the empty office next to mine or going to Maddy’s until I can pick you up,” Cameron says evenly. 

“Fine.” She looks over his shoulder at the girl and waves. “Bye.” 

“Kayla!” 

“I want to go home.” Her anger rolls in like heavy rain clouds over the shocked embarrassment that rests from Rosie just a few steps away. 

“Kayla, go apologize. We’ll talk about this in the car.” Kayla narrows her eyes at him before she storms over and fails at anything resembling a genuine apology before turning on her heel and walking back to the car with her hands balled into fists. “I’m sorry. She’s…” He sighs.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” Rosie says with a sweet smile. “Thanks anyway.” She shakes his hand and turns to go back to her own car as Cameron turns back to follow Kayla. 

“I’m not even going to ask what was wrong with her,” Cameron says as he opens the door. Kayla gets in her seat and puts her seatbelt on before crossing her arms again. “You didn’t do this when Holly left.”

“Holly wasn’t  _ Dean _ ,” Kayla seethes, her anger spiking. “He wasn’t my babysitter.”

“Certainly started that way.” He sighs. He’d been selfish. Of course he’d known that it would be hard on her if anything happened with Dean. They could have broken up. He could have died on Thanksgiving. He could have gone back to hunting. He  _ did _ go back to hunting. 

Her anger shifts and Cameron gets out of the car, moving to the backseat as quickly as he can. Kayla unbuckles her seatbelt and he pulls her into his arms as she starts to cry. He rubs her back as the car seems to fill with her sadness. 

“I miss him too,” Cameron says softly. “He’s supposed to call tonight, remember?” 

“Early enough for me to talk to him too?” she asks between sniffs. 

“If not, I promise I will wake you up so you can say hi.” She doesn’t lift her face from his chest but he does lift her hand, her pinkie finger stuck straight up. He hooks his with hers for a moment. Pinky promises are very important between them. He’s never broken one once. 

“I still don’t want a new babysitter,” she says in a small voice. He smiles in spite of himself, glad she can’t see. It’s exhausting dealing with this, but he will never get over how perfect Dean folded into their lives. 

“Kayla.”

“Dad.” 

He’ll have to make a few phone calls. If he gives her a babysitter she doesn’t like, she can make their life a living hell. She’s almost 8 and 8 year olds are the worst. His feelings toward forcing an authority figure on her might also be residual discomfort from being thrown from house to house. It doesn’t matter. He won’t let Kayla feel this out of control of her own life. 

The phone rings while Cameron is making dinner. He’s about to grab it when Kayla throws herself across the room to get to it first. She snatches it and runs out of the kitchen, the cord trailing behind her. 

“Hello?” She beams. “Dean!” Joy fills the room and Cameron feels himself relax. He smiles and listens to his daughter chatter away to his boyfriend on the phone. “I’m on Winter Break now. You missed the Winter Concert.” There’s a pause where he probably asks what that even is. 

Every year, the whole school puts on a performance for the parents. Each grade has a different song. This year, Kayla’s group did Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It was really cute. Everyone in the class wore antler headbands and painted their noses red. Well, the parents painted their noses red. It was off-key and out of sync and absolutely perfect. 

With Christmas next week, it’s all anyone can talk about. There are wrapped presents under the tree for Dean, but Cameron has a feeling he won’t be here to open them in time. He glances at the calendar. Dean has only been gone a week. He’d told Cameron in the past that hunts can take anywhere from a few days to a week at least or a few weeks at most. Cameron knows that the hope that this phone call will be to tell them that he’s coming back and that the case is cleaned up is futile. 

Kayla hands Cameron the phone after a few minutes. “Hey,” he breathes. Kayla makes a face at him and he shoos her away. 

“Hey, Cam.” It’s weird talking to Dean without being able to feel his emotions filling the room. It feels disconnected, but he still clings to his voice. “How was your day?”

“She’s still not taking another babysitter. She’s going to have to come to the office with me tomorrow. Maddy’s family is already leaving to go to her grandparent’s house.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She misses you.”

“I miss you both.” He sighs and Cameron steels himself. “I’m going to be late for Christmas,” he says. 

“How late? Same day, just missed it by hours late?” 

“I don’t know. I hope so, but I don’t know. We finished up our hunt tonight. We’re headed back to drop Sam off now, but there’s another case in town here. We’re gonna wrap it up and then I can take a cab back to you unless I find a car no one’s gonna miss.”

“Don’t steal cars,” Cameron scolds, voice lowered so Kayla can’t hear him. “I could pick you up maybe,” he offers though it feels too flimsy. He can’t drop everything and just go get him. He can if he’s not working, if Kayla is either with her mom or awake and it’s nowhere near bedtime, if Dean is close enough to make the drive in one night.  _ If. _

“I don’t want to be here,” Dean sighs. Cameron can practically see him running his hand over his face. “I hid your present in your box so you wouldn’t find it, but I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to give it to you last week or on Christmas and now I’m not there for either, so.” 

“Last week?”

“Don’t people do the whole one month thing?” 

Cameron’s heart skips a beat. People do. He didn’t think Dean would. “I didn’t get you anything,” he confesses. He hadn’t thought Dean would want to do much besides maybe go to a nice dinner together. He’d cancelled the reservations he’d made that had been for the Sunday after Dean had left. 

“It’s okay.” The sound of someone talking in the background cuts in. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec. Keep your panties on,” Dean says. There’s a reply and Dean sighs. “Two minutes, Sam. No. Tell him I’m taking a leak or something. I don’t care.” 

“Do you have to go?” Cameron asks. He glances over at the table where Kayla is coloring. 

“Yeah, but I want to hear your voice.” 

“You have it,” Cameron says just to say something and give Dean the only thing he’s asking for. “I love you. Come back soon.”

“I can’t say it right now,” he says. “Not to pull a Swayze, but ditto.” 

Cameron grins. They hang up because they aren’t one of those couples who says  _ no, you hang up first _ . Even as he serves dinner and sits down at the table, he’s wondering what Dean got him and hid in his box. 

“Do you want to play a game after dinner?” Cameron asks. She’s been on and off since her fit earlier. She’s not fuming anymore, but the elation from her short talk with Dean has dwindled. If she were like Tinkerbell and only had one emotion at a time, it would be easier to understand her. But she's a 7 year old who’s as complex as they come, her emotions in a Pigpen-sized dustball. 

“No.” She picks at her veggies before taking a bite. “I think I just want to read. Can I sleep in your room tonight?” 

“Okay. Help me with the dishes before you go though, alright?” She nods. She will fight tooth and nail not to clean her room, but she never argues about dishes. It would be the opposite for him. If he could go the rest of his life cleaning rooms just so he didn’t have to do any dishes ever again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

As soon as the dishes are done and the table is clean, Kayla gives Cameron a kiss on his cheek and goes to her room, flopping into her bed loudly with a stack of books. Cameron peeks in to see that it’s a mixed pile of Batman comics and the Barbie books her grandparents got for her. 

The icy rain sounds perfect on the roof as he goes into his bedroom, leaving the door open a crack. He sits on the floor and pulls the box from the closet. It doesn’t feel heavier. Did he mean this box? He shifts it in his hands and hears the marbles roll. He doesn’t have to stall or guess, but he’s sitting here like a kid in the days before Christmas just trying to use their x-ray vision to see their presents early. 

Cameron finally takes the lid off and sets it to the side. There are two new photo strips inside, facing up. His heart stops as he picks them up. Both of them are pictures of Dean and Kayla together. They look so happy. Cameron laughs when he sees the costumes in the second one, but it’s a weird laugh, tears streaming down his face. They both look happy, silly, overjoyed. The grins, the hugs, the failed attempts at hearts. Even in goofy glasses, they beam. She wears a crown. He’d called her princess. 

Cameron holds the strips side by side and takes in their joy. He loves them both so much. He loves that Dean thought of this. He loves that he’s holding the best present he’s ever received and it’s printed on flimsy photo paper. Cameron turns them over and sees the one note. It’s just a hastily drawn heart with “ — DW” written under it. He runs his fingers over the letters before he kisses the heart. 

One more hunt. Just a little longer. He’ll be back soon. 

Cameron holds the pictures to his chest and takes a deep breath. He’d known what he was getting into. It wasn’t like they skirted the issue either. They talked about it, trying to figure out what they could do to make it work because they need to make it work. He closes his eyes. 

He feels his neighbor, Patty, walking up his front walk. That woman is always a ball of nervous energy around him. Other days, he might go to the door, answer it with a kind smile, tell her thanks for whatever excuse she’s come up with to come knocking. Today, he’s in no mood.  _ Not right now. _ It’s barely a reflex anymore. As soon as he feels her raise her hand to knock, he tells her not to. The knock never comes.  _ Just go away…  _ Her footsteps retreat and he relaxes again. 


	19. Chapter 19

Dean didn’t have to fake the fight to get his dad to get off his back. John was already fuming because of how their last case had ended. He’d walked into a trap and Dean had been in the right spot at the right time to kill the thing before it killed John. Unfortunately, Dean had been “acting impulsively” and “could have gotten them both killed.” 

After fights, John had always gone for the option of dropping Dean off somewhere where he wouldn’t have to think about him for a while or just telling him to leave. Dean’s too used to it. As soon as they started raising their voices, Dean threw the rest of his shit back into his bag, gave his dad the finger, and told him to fuck off. 

It hadn’t really left room for Dean to call Cameron and warn him he was coming back. From the back of his taxi, all Dean had was his pager which he used to tell Sam he wouldn’t be coming back but he’d check in with one of their codes. 

Sam answers, another code asking if their dad is coming back. Dean tells him yes and shoves the pager into his bag so he can press his cheek to the cold window and watch the stars race by in the sky. He turns on his crappy yellow walkman and lets Metallica drown out the fight and calm Dean’s nerves. 

He’s been gone for three weeks. He’d thought he’d be back in one. What if it was too much? He talked to Cameron as often as he could. He’d even sent a postcard. It was a dumb one that said “Wish You Were Here,” but Dean had written over it in sharpie so it read “Wish I was there.” He hadn’t been able to think of anything else to write though. He’d sent it with nothing but Cameron’s address written on the other side. 

Excitement takes over the exhaustion and worry as soon as the cab turns onto Cameron’s street. Everyone’s houses are lit up with Christmas lights even in the dead of night. Dean doesn’t bother checking the time before he passes the fare to the driver, says thanks over his shoulder, and practically throws himself out of the car to go racing up the front walk. It looks like home. 

He knocks and rocks on his heels for a second. They’re asleep. Duh. He picks up a handful of rocks and goes to Cameron’s window. He chucks four before Cameron throws open the curtains, eyes squinting through the sleepiness. 

“Cam!”

He can’t hear it, but he sees Cameron’s lips form his name before he runs out of the room. Dean races back to the front door just as it’s flung open. There’s not a moment to breathe before Cameron’s arms are around him. Dean hugs him back just as tight. 

“You’re here!” Cameron says into Dean’s shoulder. He pulls back and searches Dean’s face. “You’re really here or I’m dreaming. Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you? Oh god, you’re back. You’re here.” There’s no room to answer the questions. There’s hardly room for Cameron to breathe between sentences. Despite the fact that they’re still standing on Cameron’s front step, he kisses Dean full on. Dean doesn’t care either, kissing back immediately and holding him tighter. 

It’s a full minute of relieved reunion making out before the chill seeps into both of them. Cameron shivers and mumbles something about how it’s warmer inside. He grabs one of Dean’s bags as Dean grabs the other and they head inside. 

“Welcome home, love,” Cameron whispers. Home. “I’ll go put your things away.” 

Dean nods and takes a breath. The tree is lit up in the corner of the room. It’s the only light in the house. There are two presents underneath it, the rest unwrapped the day before. The weight of the weapons in his hand feels out of place here. He goes into the garage and shoves them back into the trunk, locking them up before hanging Cameron’s keys back on the rack by the door. 

He pulls his boots off and pads down the hall in socked feet to Cameron’s room. The fact that he hasn’t slept in 40 hours finally starts to set in. He’d meant to sleep in the taxi. He blinks heavily and peels off his pants and coat, leaving them in a heap beside the bed. Cameron left a pair of gray plaid pajama pants on the edge of the bed. It sounds like he’s in the bathroom now. Dean pulls on the pj’s and slides under the covers. 

He’s vaguely aware of Cameron’s arms wrapping around him a few moments later. He can feel gentle kisses pressed to his cheek and shoulder. He feels safe and warm and loved. He wants to tells Cameron… something. Everything. He wants to say his name again. But words fail him because he’s already asleep. 

Dean wakes up to the sound of Kayla screaming. He sits bolt upright, ready to fight. His heart is hammering but before he can throw the blankets to the side and go running out to help her, Cameron’s door flies open and Kayla barrels in. 

“Dean!” She’s already made her way up onto the bed and into Dean’s arms. 

“Kayla,” Cameron groans. He’d also been asleep. He sits up and meets Dean’s eye over Kayla’s shoulder.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” Dean says groggily. She’s asking questions at a million miles a minute and he can’t follow any of them. 

“Kayla, please… Either be quiet in here or go play.” Cameron still sounds like he’s asleep.

“Can I stay to cuddle?” she asks in a loud whisper. Cameron looks at Dean for the answer. He nods.

There’s a strange moment of rearranging. Cameron and Dean cuddle closer, snuggling back down into their pillows and turning on their sides to accomodate for the extra person. Kayla curls up against Dean like Sam used to when they were little. It’s the first time something like this has happened for Dean. 

Dean can feel Kayla pressing on his fingers like they’re piano keys and Cameron’s breath on the back of his neck. It isn’t hard to fall right back to sleep. 

When he wakes again, the bed is empty. He can hear Cameron and Kayla talking somewhere beyond the closed door. He sits up slowly and blinks. He really fuckin’ pushed it. Usually, a solid four hours will do, but after all that? He tries not to think about the hunt. It wasn’t so much out of the ordinary as it was that Dean had been in a hurry to finish it to get back here. The fights were never ending. Something tells him it’s because he’s found an ounce more of self respect since meeting Cameron. He no longer wants to take the punches lying down. He’s starting to find his own voice and realize that he’s allowed to use it. 

Dean runs his hand through his hair and checks his watch. He got at least eight hours. It’s almost noon. He hadn’t meant to sleep so late. He’d made it here in the early hours, missing Christmas by less than a day. It’s the 26th. It’s both an accomplishment and a failure. He should have been here for the concert that Kayla had been so excited for and he should have been here on Christmas morning to do whatever it is happy families do on Christmas. 

He glances down at his t-shirt and decides the Led Zeppelin tee he’d worn yesterday is good enough for now. He probably still reeks of the hunt, but to them it’s probably not much more than a little sweat. He can change later. Dean gets up and walks out of the room slowly. He might have slept off the hunt but he still needs coffee before he can function. 

“Mornin’,” he mumbles. Cameron’s face lights up, brown eyes shining. Kayla grins but stays where she is on the couch rather than assaulting him. She might have been told to take it easier on him after this morning. 

“Let me get you some coffee,” Cameron says as he gets up from his spot on the floor beside the tree. “How’d you sleep?” 

"Mm.." he answers.

Cam gives Dean a kiss in passing on his way to the kitchen. Dean catches his hand as he goes and their fingers linger for a moment before he continues to the kitchen. Dean walks into the living room and plops onto the couch beside Kayla. 

“Your hair’s all funny,” Kayla laughs. Dean doesn’t bother trying to fix it. “Do you want your presents?” she asks, moving on quickly, the holiday excitement too much for her to hold back anymore. 

“Sure.” His hand automatically goes to the amulet around his neck to adjust it. The last Christmas present he ever got. He should have expected that they’d get him something, but it hadn’t registered until he saw the presents when he’d arrived early this morning. He’d picked them up presents too, but they’re in Cameron’s room in a flimsy plastic bag at the bottom of his duffle. 

Kayla hands Dean a small box wrapped in reindeer paper. There’s too much tape holding it together and his name is written on it with black pen. Part of him wants to save it, but there’s no way for him to keep this paper intact even if he had a way of keeping it in one piece while fighting through the tape. He tears it away and smiles when he sees the cassette. It’s a Kinks album. One he doesn’t own yet. “How’d you know?” 

“You’re old.” She shrugs. He can’t help but laugh. “I wanted to get you a CD but Dad said you only have a walkman. If you want a CD instead, you can use my boombox.” 

“No, thanks. This is perfect.” He hugs her from the side as he turns it over to look at the song list. He knows and loves most of the songs on this tape. He can remember listening to them on the radio on long car drives. “Thank you.” Cameron walks over and hands Dean his coffee over the back of the couch. “Thanks. Uh, Cam?”

“Yeah?”

“I have two things in my bag. They’re in a plastic bag. Can you grab them for me?” he asks. 

Cameron nods and goes to his room to return with the unwrapped gifts. It doesn’t feel like enough. He hadn’t had time to wrap them. In the past, he’d used newspaper for Sam’s presents. He tried using the funny pages always. This time was different. He had a secret family he was hiding from his dad and his brother. He’d stuffed their gifts into the depths and hoped no one looked or noticed. 

Cameron sits next to Dean with the bag on his lap. “You didn’t have to get us anything,” he says, shoulder nudging Dean’s gently. 

Dean leans into his touch. “I did.” 

When he was gone, all Dean could think about was how he wasn’t there with them to keep them safe. His priority has always been to keep Sammy safe, but now there’s these two new heartbeats that Dean feels responsible for. He loves them and he has to protect them. There are items that hunters carry for protection. Dean had found them two items of protection knowing full well he wouldn’t be at home with them all the time. Clearly, he’s still his father’s lapdog. He’s still a big brother with a job to do. He’s still a hunter. So he’ll protect them like a hunter.

Cameron reaches into the bag and pulls out a dreamcatcher that was woven by an old hunter who had retired to buy and sell the items hunters might need. He’d told stories of how his grandmother had weaved him one and how he weaves them now for his grandchildren. It keeps their nightmares at bay, but the wood he uses and the smoke that burned into it as it was bent and molded was supposed to ward off the monster under the bed, the boogeyman, and any kind of dreamwalker. Dean just hopes it works. 

“That’s for Kayla,” Dean says. Cameron hands it to her as she looks at it with wide eyes. She takes it carefully and runs her fingers over the carefully placed beads in the web. 

“I’ve always wanted one,” she says a little awestruck as if they’re hard to come by. Dean doesn’t know if all dream catchers work, but this one should. “Thank you!” she says, still entranced with her new thing. He smiles a little, glad that she likes it even though it isn’t soccer, comic, or barbie related. She runs to her room with it, talking about how she has to find the perfect place for it to hang. 

He and Cameron watch from their spots on the couch before both give up on seeing her again any time soon. 

“Me first or you?” Cameron asks, turning to Dean. He hasn’t looked in the bag on his lap. He could think it’s empty, his gift is so small. 

“Same time,” Dean says. He’s not used to this and is already embarrassed by the attention. He’s too used to being a shadow in the background. That’s where he’s used to living. Cameron nods and gets up to grab the last present from under the tree. He settles beside Dean and hands it to him. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” he says before leaning in to kiss Dean. The presents are forgotten for a moment as the kiss lingers, their lips perfectly fitted. Dean’s hand comes up to cup Cameron’s face, his thumb stroking over his short beard. Their lips part but their foreheads press together, noses touching. “I’m so glad you’re home,” Cameron whispers.

“Me too.” Home. Home that isn’t a classic car rushing down back roads or parked in front of a fleabag motel. A home with smiles and laughter and a family that sits down to eat their meals together and says  _ I love you _ . Home where Dean finally has a place. A place next to Cameron. A place where he has a birthday buddy, a princess, a superhero, and a little nutbrown hare all in one little one. 

They part and Dean looks down at the red paper with  _ Ho Ho Ho! _ written on it in white. There’s a heart drawn on it with Dean’s name inside in Cameron’s messy handwriting. He can’t tear this one. He rips off the heart in a circle before discarding the rest of the paper. Dean stares at the flawless copy of The Odyssey in his hands as Cameron carefully holds a silver talisman. 

“Is this Latin?” Cameron asks. 

“Uh, yeah.” He should have just got them both normal gifts. He could have picked up a barbie and a new watch anywhere. He’d let his anxiety get the better of him. “A lot of hunters carry that. We have one but we leave it in the car. It’s supposedly there to help protect us. Make us harder to find wherever it is. Problem is, if you wear it, it gets lost or you drop it or whatever. If it’s in the car or at home then it just helps when you’re on the move or tryin’ to get some shut-eye.” He shrugs. “I just thought…”

“I love it. Thank you.” His fingers lace themselves with Dean’s before he brings his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“The Odyssey?” Dean asks, holding it up with his free hand. No one’s given him a book before and certainly not an epic poem. No one cares that he likes to read. No one thinks he can. He’s just a grunt. A machine. They don’t see a guy who even knows who Homer is aside from the dad from The Simpsons. But Cameron does. 

“I think you’d actually like it. I mean, no, it’s not for everyone, but if I know you…” And he does. “I think you’ll like it.” How does he do that? How does he read Dean perfectly when no one else can? 

“I think I’ll love it,” Dean corrects him. He already knows that he’s going to read it while cuddled up with Cameron. He knows that he’ll read the entire book while pressed against Cameron’s side. It won’t be in one sitting, but it will all happen here at home. 

Dean is used to watching Christmas specials on shitty motel tv’s. They’ll play How the Grinch Stole Christmas and Rudolph. If he can find the right channel, he tries to catch It’s a Wonderful Life. It feels different watching Christmas movies with Cameron and Kayla. They watch Nightmare Before Christmas with Kayla because it’s her favorite. She stays for the beginning of A Christmas Carol but disappears to go play while Dean cuddles up with his boyfriend and enjoys the holiday cheer. 

“Are you even packed?” Cameron asks as he hangs the dreamcatcher over her bed. Dean looks around the mess of books and toys that litter her room. There’s no sign of a bag. She’s supposed to be leaving tonight with her mom to go visit her grandparents for a week. 

“No,” she says simply. “I’m not going.”

“Uh, yes, you are,” Cameron says, turning around to face her. She looks at Dean like he’s her out. He shakes his head. “Why don’t you want to go? You love Nana and Pops.” 

“I don’t want to pack. And Dean just got back. I’m not going.” She folds her arms and scowls. “Why can’t they just come here?”

“You know he can’t travel right now.”

Dean listens as it goes back and forth between Cameron’s even tone and Kayla’s whining. No voices raise except Kayla’s. She cries as she tears her bag out of the closet and throws it on her bed dramatically, but there’s no real escalation. It’s just a kid being a kid with weird logic and random tantrums. And it’s nothing like anything Dean grew up with. 

“I want that bag packed and ready to go by the time your mom gets here,” Cameron says. It’s more than generous. She’s supposed to come over for dinner and take Kayla off to the airport from there. That’s hours from now. 

“Fine!” she yells at him. He nods and steps out of the room with Dean. Dean hadn’t noticed he’d been cleaning up the floor as they’d fought to give himself something to do until he has to stop. 

“You didn’t have to stick around for that,” Cameron says as they close her door to let her cool off and pack. 

“I’ve never been able to leave in the middle of an argument before,” Dean says. He goes to the kitchen and pulls a container of leftovers out of the fridge. 

“I guess it’s good for you to see anyway.” Cameron takes the container from Dean and puts it in the microwave. “One day, you’ll stop being perfect and she’s going to pull something like this.”

“I’m not perfect now,” Dean argues.

“To her you are,” he laughs a little but then he sighs. “Kids are weird. It took her a little bit with her last babysitter, Holly. She loved her and she could do no wrong for a few weeks then  _ bam _ ! Out of nowhere, she was testing the shit out of her. Not listening. Telling weird lies about if she’d done her homework. Nothing too huge.”

“And then?” He hopes that’s not the end of the story. Holly is gone. It could very well be the end of the story. 

“And then she got through it.” Cameron shrugs and takes their leftovers out of the microwave. It won’t be molten and the middle is probably still cold, but they sit at the table with their two forks and start digging into the same dish anyway. 

“So, when do I stop being perfect?” Dean asks. 

“Any day now,” Cameron grins. “Then you’ll just be my boyfriend.”

“Oh, is that all?” 

It feels good to laugh and joke. A day ago, he had his jaw clenched tight as he fired his gun, his dad’s shouting echoing through the warehouse they were in. Now he’s sitting at a table smiling and relaxing under Cameron’s gaze. 

He’d almost told Sam the truth. He’d come close a few times during the first hunt. Sam likes the school he’s at right now and their dad had agreed to recover from the last hunt there with Sam so he could stay there a little longer, but they both knew it wasn’t forever. Dean had wanted to take Sam with him and enrolled him in the high school that Kayla will eventually go to. It’s a private school with competitive grading, whatever that means, and it has a high acceptance rate to most of the colleges Sam has mentioned over the years. He’d almost told Sam to fuck off, that he had a boyfriend when Sam had teased him and asked if he was losing his touch when he hadn’t flirted with a waitress. He’d come close to telling Sam everything when they were the only two in the motel room at some god-awful time in the morning when he’d woken up with Cam’s name on his lips, bursting from his chest. 

It could be easy. Sitting with Cameron at the table on a Saturday afternoon makes Dean want to pick up the phone and tell Sam to pack up. That he can get out of life he so desperately wants to leave. He wants to tell him that he has a chance at making it to Harvard or Stanford or wherever it is that he wants to go and he never has to hunt another day in his life if he doesn’t want to because he can have Saturdays like this. He can have a different kind of family here with Cameron, Kayla, Jenny, and him. They could do it if Dean wasn’t so afraid of what would happen if he did. 

“Still with me?” Cameron asks, snapping Dean back to the moment. 

“Sorry.” He shakes his head and looks away from the phone. “Zoned out.”

“That was a lot of changing emotions for zoning out,” he comments. Dean feels his cheeks burn. He’d forgotten that Cameron can do that. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not important,” Dean mumbles. Maybe he’ll do it when their dad tries to move Sam again. Maybe he’ll have the courage to kidnap his brother and run away to live happily ever after with Cameron by the time the pager goes off again. “Do you just feel that all the time?” he asks, looking up. 

“I don’t mean to.” Now Cameron looks embarrassed, but only slightly. 

“Did you when we first met?” Dean presses. 

“A little.” He smiles guiltily. 

“A lot,” Dean corrects him with a groan, covering his face. “So you knew I liked you? The entire time?” 

“It’s not like I can read thoughts.” He pokes at the food before putting down his fork. “I knew you liked  _ someone _ and I both desperately wanted it to be me and knew it shouldn’t be me. It’s not like there wasn’t a pretty barista your age working that day or anything.” 

“You had to have known after that though.” 

“I knew after that.” Cameron nods, his smile too perfect. “I knew but…” 

“But it would have been inappropriate to do anything about it like kiss in the kitchen and accidentally start dating the babysitter? Oh, wait.” 

“Shut up.” 

“For you?” Dean leans forward and smiles. “Never.” He closes the gap and kisses him. 

Dean cleans up the dishes from dinner as Kayla picks which of her toys and books are coming with her on the plane. She’s safely in her room while Cameron lowers his voice to talk to Jenny at the table. 

“What’s going on?”

Dean is definitely not eavesdropping. That would be rude. He just happens to be nearby and listening as she answers, “Nothing,” in an uneasy voice. 

“Jenny.” Cameron clearly sees something that Dean doesn’t. “You barely ate anything and don’t try to tell me you weren’t disgusted by your favorite food.”

“Maybe I don’t like garlic bread anymore, Cameron.” Dean glances over to see Cam make a face and Jenny sigh. “You shouldn’t know me this well.”

“We’ve been friends for too long for you to still be saying that,” Cameron argues. She laughs a little. 

“You already know. You just want me to say it.” 

Dean glances over again and sees Cameron’s guilty look before he sits back. “Yeah.” 

“Okay. I’m two months along. I was going to tell Kayla and my parents this week. I thought about waiting like last time, but I figured I should tell them in person this time. Before you ask, no I don’t know who the father is, nor do I care. I don’t want someone else involved.”

“You’re sure? Last time it took both of us.”

“We were also taking full course loads and working. I can do this. I hope you’ll be there for me, but I think I can do this.” 

“I know you can.” He sighs like he’s reliving memories of a different conversation over 8 years ago that went differently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Me too.” 

Dean turns to see them hug. She looks relieved, her eyes closed, her chin barely able to make it over Cameron’s shoulder. She looks much taller when they’re not standing right next to each other. She steps away and smiles, tucking her wild blonde hair behind her ear. 

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” he says instantly. She nods and walks down the hallway to collect her daughter so Dean can drive them to the airport. Cameron runs a hand through his hair and pushing out a breath, his cheeks puffing out. “I wasn’t expecting that tonight.” 

“But you knew,” Dean points out, knowing it’s useless to feign ignorance. Whether it be from Cameron being able to read Dean like a book or him having the ability to feel Dean’s emotions as they come, Cam always knows. And Dean doesn’t like to lie to him anyway. He’s never felt more comfortable telling the truth in his entire life. He might get used to it. He could be bad for business. 

“I figured it out when she didn’t touch her garlic bread and her delight was taken over by a wave of disgust,” Cameron allows. Dean had noticed Jenny’s aversion but had taken it as a slight against his cooking rather than anything more. She’d frowned and covered her nose for a moment before being sure to not take a slice. “Same thing happened with garlic and cinnamon at different stages with Kayla.” 

“How do you even remember that kind of stuff?” Dean asks as he dries his hands and leans against the wall. His dad used to say things like this about his mom too. Dean had clung to every word when he was little. He knows that she had strong cravings and he’d invented the Winchester Surprise for her to satiate the cravings for mass amounts of cheesy, greasy meat. But those stories started to drown in the alcohol. Her memory was getting lost in the search for revenge. 

Cameron laughs. “If she couldn’t deal with the smell, I couldn’t eat it either. No garlic bread when it’s the entire world’s favorite food? And she threw the cinnamon out even though I’d promised not to cook with it. We had a whole fight about it, but it’s laughable now.” 

"Ready?" Jenny asks everyone as she reemerges from Kayla’s room, her daughter trailing behind her with her backpack that is no doubt filled with comics and a barbie doll. 

"Let's bounce," Cam says as Dean goes to grab the keys. 

Jenny grabs her bag and purse that have been sitting by the door and shoves them into the back of the car next to Kayla’s bags. They squeeze in tight. They could have used the trunk, but there’s no way that opening an arsenal at the airport is a good idea. And they hadn’t had time to find a new place for the weapons. Cameron had settled on telling Jenny that the trunk lock was broken and he was going to have a locksmith take a look at it. 

Kayla's attitude has made a 180. She's excited to go on the airplane and keeps thinking up new things to tell her grandparents about. She’s been given permission to tell them about her dad’s new boyfriend. While Dean had been gone in December, she had been told to keep it a secret because not everyone would be happy about the news. People like Martin who’d heard the rumor, were still under the impression that she’d either misspoken or was making it up. But even with the joy at seeing her grandparents again, it always circles back to the airplane ride. Dean tries to bury his own fears about the subject and let her enjoy it. He knows Cam can feel it, his hand a gentle reassurance on Dean's leg as he drives.

After Kayla hugs Cameron, she throws her arms around Dean. They say goodbye, her excitement bubbling in the drop-off zone of the airport. He doesn’t expect Jenny to hug him too, but she pulls him in. 

“Uh, have a good trip,” Dean says awkwardly, her arms tight around him. She moves away but her hands squeeze his shoulders instead of totally releasing him. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” she grins, hands falling back to her bags. He watches them disappear into the massive building before he gets back in the car. 

“So, I’m guessing vacations that require a plane are out of the question,” Cameron says lightly. 

“They’re diseased and they crash. People  _ die _ on planes. Don’t get me started. Do you remember that crash back in September? 234 passengers, Cam.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “And even if the plane doesn’t crash… Then you’re sitting in a tube with any number of people who are all germy and gross. A sneeze from the front of the plane gets recirculated through the plane and spat right into everyone else's faces. Tis the season for the fucking flu. Did she get her flu shot?”

“She got her flu shot and the plane is not going to crash,” Cameron says steadily. It feels wildly out of proportion to Dean’s nervous energy. 

“I just dropped off the two most important people in your life so they could get on a deathtrap,” Dean groans, hands tight on the wheel. 

“They’re going to be fine,” Cam reassures him again. His tone implies he could do this for the rest of his life without losing patience with Dean. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says. There’s no argument and he doesn’t push Dean for more answers. Cameron puts in Metallica and  _ Some Kind of Monster _ starts playing. He hums along and Cameron sings along quietly, letting the music fill the car. It calms Dean. It’s not perfect, but something about the moment eases his mind. He glances over at Cameron, the streetlights that they pass illuminating his features in waves. They’re okay.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean’s back slams into the wall, his hands over his head, fingers tightly laced with his boyfriend’s. Cameron’s body presses to Dean’s as their lips crash together. Dean’s tongue slips into Cameron’s mouth and he groans as Cameron sucks. Their hands fall, both aching to touch everywhere. Their shirts are already gone, somewhere in the hallway between the living room and Cameron’s room. Dean’s pants are undone and are slipping, but manage to be held up from how sandwiched he is. 

With his hands freed, Dean yanks Cameron’s jeans down. He groans when Cameron’s hands move down his body and slip between the waistband of Dean’s boxers and his heated skin. His pants fall and he climbs Cameron, arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs winding around his waist. Cameron supports him, both hands on his ass. 

“Cam,” Dean moans, head falling back as his neck is sucked and bitten. He grabs fistfulls of Cameron’s thick hair as he grows harder against him. 

He’s eased onto the bed, his legs falling to the side as Cam grinds his hips into his. As soon as Cameron lets up to grab the lube, Dean rips off his boxers and tosses them wherever. He aches to have Cam inside of him. 

“Fuck,” Cameron breathes when he turns around and sees Dean sprawled on the bed, eyes taking him in while stroking himself. Dean smiles flirtatiously as he brings his other hand to his mouth and licks his middle finger slowly. He watches Dean suck on his finger for a moment before he puts some lube in his hand and sits beside Dean. 

As soon as Cameron’s fingers press the lube into Dean, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan. He feels himself come apart under his boyfriend’s fingers. Not that he was entirely well put together moments before. Neither of them last much longer. Cameron picks Dean back up and presses him to the wall again, their lips meeting hungrily just before he lowers Dean enough that he can sink into him. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Dean moans into him. 

Dean holds onto Cam, one hand in his hair, the other digging into his back. His eyes are shut tight in ecstasy as he’s drilled into the wall. Their kissing becomes increasingly more sloppy as they fight for tongues, lips, air, and moans. 

“Stop,” Dean says breathlessly. Cameron immediately stops and pulls his face away from Dean’s neck to look at him. They’re both panting and Cameron is still buried deep. He revels in the feeling before slowly kissing Cam. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” he answers, kissing back just as slowly. They fall to the floor, Dean trembling a little as their love making becomes just that. It’s not the rough fucking that it was a moment before. “I love you, Dean,” Cam whispers into his lips. 

“I love you so much,” Dean says before drowning in kisses. His hands guide Cam to start thrusting again. It’s slow and  _ god, it feels good. _ This time, their lips don’t part. Even when they start breathing too heavily to make out, their lips remain, barely touching as their breath lingers between them. 

A strangled gasp escapes Dean when Cameron hits his prostate. He wriggles his hips, begging for it again. He doesn’t have to beg hard, Cameron only too happy to thrust hard into the same spot. Dean spills over, shuddering with a groan. As he does, Cameron thrusts all the way into him and stays, filling him as Dean comes. 

Dean captures his lips again and sucks Cameron’s tongue into his mouth to urge him to keep going. He wants to feel Cameron release. He rolls his hips against him before Cameron keeps going with his gentle, agonizingly slow, loving pace. It feels so goddamn good. He moans into his mouth. 

“Come in me,” Dean says with Cam’s bottom lip between his teeth. Cameron is already close. He can feel it. He can see it in the turn of his eyebrows, that look in his eye. 

“Dean,” Cameron groans back. He thrusts hard, Dean gasping as he feels Cameron spill over the edge. He shakes and Dean feels every twitch, every rope coming to fill him. When he’s finished, he stays planted deep as Dean cups his face with one hand and kisses him hard. It’s like they haven’t kissed in years with how urgent it becomes. Cameron’s fingers run through Dean’s hair and stop at the back of his head. 

“We should get up,” Cameron says softly when they stop devouring each other long enough for him to pull out. He runs the tip of his nose over Dean’s before he sits up.

“Probably,” Dean allows, forcing himself up and kissing Cameron’s shoulder before standing and walking to the bathroom to heat the shower for two. 

That was different. That was perfect. That was something that has never happened before. 

“What’re you doing up this early?” Cam asks, rubbing his eyes as he walks out to the living room in his usual morning attire of last night’s boxers and a random oversized sweater. 

“Coffee?” Dean offers, gesturing to the second mug that’s sitting next to him. Cameron takes his seat and wraps his hand around the mug. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks again. 

Dean glances up from the newspaper in front of him guiltily. “I  _ was _ reading the funny pages.” He really had been. But then his attention had drifted from  _ Luann _ and  _ Zits _ to the obits. And from obituaries to articles about some strange happenings. Sure, in a reputable newspaper the article is more about how the family of the deceased all look guilty because they’re rambling about their haunted house and cold spots, but to Dean, it looks like a case. 

“And now you’ve moved onto..?” Cameron looks over and screws up his face. “Obituaries? Is this a normal hobby for you?”

“Less hobby, more work. It’s basically the business section for us,” Dean says. “I know I shouldn’t be looking for a case, but it’s just…” Cameron doesn’t say anything, eyes still trained on Dean as he takes a slow sip of coffee. “I’m sorry. Forget it.” He folds the paper quickly and shoves it aside.

“Were you asking me to go on a hunt with you?” Cam asks. 

“I know.” He shakes his head. It was stupid to think he could introduce Cameron to a slice of what his life is like. A slice without turning his life upside down. Just a glimpse behind a curtain that Dean wouldn’t let open all the way. But Cameron has a job and a kid and a beautiful apple pie life that might as well be in one of the snowglobes that’s on the mantle. 

“Today?” Cameron asks instead of dropping it. Dean looks up at him. “My day’s free.” 

“Cam… You don’t want to do this.”

“I’m intrigued if not terrified, but I’m not opposed, Dean.” He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, running his thumb over Dean’s. “So… What do we do?”

Dean debriefs him on what he already knows from the paper. The address of said haunted house isn’t disclosed, but a picture and the names of the tenants are. Dean knows how to find the actual address pretty quickly, so it isn’t really a roadblock. They have the fake cause of death listed and the family’s “delirious” explanation. It’s obviously ghosts, but whose ghost is the question. It should be an easy salt ‘n’ burn case once they find the grave to dig up. The biggest issue is Dean left most of his fakes in the Impala. The only one he has on him says “bikini inspector.” 

“Televita, remember?” Cameron says with a slight grimace. 

“You don’t have to…” Dean starts, but Cameron’s eyes dip to his coffee. “Hungry?” he asks. Cameron swallows. Besides whatever emotions he’s been soaking up from his family and Dean during the holidays, he hasn’t really been out. He didn’t have work for a few days, the calendar blank surrounding Christmas. And besides the airport run, it seems he’s been mostly at home. He probably hasn’t been using his powers much at all. “Okay.” 

“How does that not just freak you out?” Cameron asks. For once, he’s the uneasy one. 

“It probably would if you weren’t you. I know you’re not going to hurt anyone,” Dean says. “Besides, what’s a little meal of some fresh emotions while making someone let me through without an ID? Not much more than stealing the donuts at the precinct.”

“Do you do that?” There’s the smile. Dean grins. 

“Of course.” He kisses Cameron’s hand like Cameron so often does to him. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes.” He takes their hands and kisses Dean’s in return before pulling Dean toward him and kissing him over the table. 

It’s a good thing both of their mugs are empty. One tips over and rolls off the table into a chair as they stand to meet each other. Dean kneels on the table rather than walking all the way around the corner that separates them. He’s taller than Cameron normally. By an inch. It’s not noticeable. On the table, he towers over him, his neck bent and Cameron’s face lifted to keep kissing. 

If the curtains of the living room weren’t still closed, this would be indecent. Dean’s already hard and in nothing but his boxers and a Van Halen tee as his legs wrap around Cameron. 

“Where to?” Cam asks as Dean slides down, legs locked around his waist and eyes becoming more level with Cameron’s. 

“The shower,” Dean says, pointing over Cameron’s shoulder. 

They brush their teeth quickly while undressing each other. Shower sex may be complicated, but it’s steamy and wet and something Dean has to try. 

He steps into the hot water first, Cameron joining him a few seconds later. He wraps his arms around Dean and lets his lips graze over his neck teasingly. One hand runs from Dean’s chest down to his cock. He sighs contentedly when Cameron both strokes him and finally kisses his neck. He leaves a trail from Dean’s dick across his hip, and back to his ass. He bites his lip when Cameron teases his hole. 

Dean’s hands brace against the wall as he spreads his legs. He looks over his shoulder to see Cameron spit into his hand. He looks back at the wall, water pouring down his face as Cameron pushes into him. It takes a moment for the positioning to be right and they’re both being blinded by the water, but once Cameron slides all the way in, they share a moan. 

He sees how it’s complicated now. Everything is slippery. Their bodies, the wall he has his hands splayed on, the floor where his feet are farther apart than usual. Water is rushing past his nose and lips, threatening to drown him if he moves wrong. Worth it. Having Cameron inside of him is always worth it. 

Cameron reaches around Dean to start jacking him off with just enough soap to make him slick as he thrusts into him. Dean moans loudly and grinds his hips backwards into him. The shower’s sound booth makes their moans, grunts, whimpers, and skin slapping into a symphony. 

Cameron comes first, his thrusts hard and stuttering. It sends Dean over the edge and he empties into the drain, spluttering to keep from inhaling the water. Cam pulls out quicker than usual, but with how awkward their positioning was, Dean isn’t really complaining. They’re both still panting as they right themselves. 

“Okay, it’s a little complicated,” Dean says and Cameron bursts out laughing. 

The haunted house isn’t far from Cameron’s town. It’s only about an hour’s drive away. It feels good to have Cameron by his side as he drives down a lonely road as fast as his heart desires. 

“I didn’t know you had such a lead foot,” Cam says, eyes wide. 

“Feels good though, doesn’t it?” Dean grins. He glances over at him to wink. “So, we probably shouldn’t go with reporter since they’ve just been smeared on every newspaper in a fifty mile radius.”

“Why lie? They already know it’s ghosts.” 

They think it’s ghosts. They don’t have proof that ghosts are real and they live in a world where they most certainly do not and the people who do believe are labeled as eccentric or gullible. If they knew the truth, they’d be more freaked out than they already are. “Easier if we lie.”

“Is this against the rules?”

“You think hunters have a rulebook?” Dean laughs in spite of himself. Hunters are such a disorganized group that they can’t really call themselves a group. Hunters range from lone-wolf types to the ones who hunt in pairs or even as a whole family unit. Their paths can cross when they meet at one hunt by accident. Some can become friends. John has made a few hunter friends over the years. And lost them. Dean doesn’t bother trying to make friends anymore. Or… he didn’t. “If there is, there’s a lot of things about us that’s against the rules.” 

“So, we’ll tell them we’re the GhostBusters and I’ll let us in when they should tell us to hit the road and we do what exactly?”

“We find out who is haunting them and we go dig ‘em up, burn the bones, and go home,” Dean says. 

“Is that legal?”

“I don’t think most of what I do is legal,” Dean muses. He looks over at Cameron and grins again. Cam rolls his eyes as he smiles back.

“Okay. So just in this case, we have vague breaking and entering, grave desecration, possible corpse mutilation, and lying,” Cameron says, ticking them off on his fingers. 

“Lying isn’t illegal,” Dean points out. “And I thought you were a shrink, not a cop.”

“I’ve seen my fair share of fucked up court mandated appointments,” Cameron says. “None of them have all of those together, so I doubt it was a hunter.”

“Shut up,” Dean laughs. No other hunt has ever started so gleefully. He might be able to prove to himself that he can have both. Saving people, hunting things, and living the apple-pie life. 


	21. Chapter 21

It takes them two days to find the name of the angry spirit. It’s Tuesday night when Dean and Cameron make it out to the right cemetery with two shovels, some salt, gasoline, and a zippo. 

“How was your day today?” Dean asks as he wipes his hand across his forehead. He can feel the dirt replacing the sweat he just wiped off. 

“Busy. We aren’t joking when we say that the holiday season is the hardest for people. You have the emergencies stacked on the regular appointments,” Cameron says, stabbing his shovel into the dirt. “You saw me at lunch. I think that was the only time I got to come up for air. I wrapped up my paperwork and everything before closing up earlier. I don’t have any appointments tomorrow, so unless someone calls with an emergency, I’m off. Is this normal for you?”

“What do you mean?” Dean tosses the dirt up over his shoulder and digs back into the earth. 

“Shooting the shit while you dig up graves.” He sounds more bewildered than anything else. Dean shrugs before he tilts his head to consider the question. He nods after a moment and Cameron laughs. 

“I mean, what else are we going to do? This guy was buried decades ago. It’s a little more risky if it’s a fresh grave, but it’s also easier to dig. Plus, grave digging…” 

He considers his words. He’s no longer afraid of it. It used to turn his stomach and not just because they were digging up bodies. He and Sam had both been trained to dig themselves out of graves in the unlikely event that they would be buried alive. There were drills. They were timed. They had to keep doing it until they could make it up without passing out first and having to be dragged the rest of the way by their dad. It’s not something that he can forget even if he’s so numb to it now that he can casually ask how Cameron’s day was while standing shoulder-deep in a grave. 

Cameron makes a face like he felt the stab of Dean’s thought process.  _ Because he did _ , Dean reminds himself. He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s normal. Dad’s managed to get caught once or twice but I’ve either managed to run fast enough or not be there.” 

“You’ve been caught?” The alarm is a little endearing. 

Dean smiles and nods. His shovel finally hits wood. “Jackpot!” It’s the only fun part in this whole ordeal. It’s a little like finding a treasure chest. The fun ends when this treasure chest opens to the pungent aroma of rotting flesh and decay instead of gold doubloons. “I’ll finish here. You hop up and grab the gas and salt. You do  _ not _ want to be down here when I open this thing.” 

Cameron doesn’t argue. He tosses his shovel up onto the grass above and pulls himself up as Dean keeps moving the dirt away from the coffin so he can crack it open. The gas and salt aren’t far. They’re just behind the headstone to make sure they didn’t bury them in the dirt they were throwing. 

The night is freezing. Dean has his hands wrapped up in thick gloves that he’s only taken off to wipe his face or stop to drink some water. It’s a good thing the ground doesn’t freeze here. Otherwise, they would have had a little bit more of a problem. The flashlight they set up by the headstone barely helps Dean see much else but the misty puffs of breath when he turns for the light to hit it just right. 

Dean gets the lid open and gags, covering his nose with the back of his glove. Thirty years in the hole didn’t do this guy any favors. “Dude,” he says, voice muffled as he turns away from the bones and turns around. He’s about to pull himself up when he looks up and sees Cameron kneeling with his hand waiting for Dean to take it. 

There’s really no reason to blush about such a simple gesture but his cheeks burn and he takes his hand, allowing himself to be helped up. They stand and Dean dusts the dirt awkwardly from himself and tosses his gloves to the side. 

“Want me to do it?” he asks. 

“What do I do?” Cameron holds up the salt like he’s unsure why he’s holding it in the first place. Dean kind of laughs but tries not to. 

“Season him,” Dean says, still trying to hide his amusement. 

“He’s not an omelet, Dean!” 

“I have  _ never _ served an omelet on fire before,” Dean says. It’s not funny. He really shouldn’t laugh. “You don’t have to be here for this.”

“I’m invested now.” He opens the salt and sprinkles it in delicately. Dean has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He’s done this hundreds of times and he’s never even thought about doing it any other way than unceremoniously dumping the salt in, pouring the gas in the hole, and lighting the son of a bitch up. 

“Alright.” Cam steps back as Dean pours the gas and flips open the zippo, the flame springing up. He drops it in and moves to stand next to Cam. 

“What now?” 

“Uh…” He glances from the flaming pit where a ghost is being forced to rest and back to his boyfriend who looks like he could use a hug and a cup of something warm and comforting. “We wait a little bit, rebury him, clean up, head home. You okay?”

“I’ve never lit a dead body on fire before. You’re going to have to give me a minute.” He turns around to face the rest of the darkened graveyard and Dean wraps his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think—” Cameron’s shoulders shake and Dean stiffens. Guilt squeezes his heart as Cameron cries quietly. His hands hold onto Dean’s and they stay like that for a few minutes. Dean rests his chin on his shoulder instead of moving around him to hug him from the front. He’d rather not face the flames that brought his boyfriend to tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t. I could have said no.” 

He had never thought about how fucked up what they do is. It’s one thing to go digging in the dirt at midnight. It’s another to actually light a body on fire. But it’s all the same to Dean. He’s been doing this for as long as he can remember really. He hadn’t thought how it might be for someone else who wasn’t raised like he was. He hadn’t thought that it might be too much. 

“I can finish this and drive us home,” Dean says softly. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’m not going to wait in the car,” he says, turning around finally. The tears on his cheeks shine with the light from the fire. Dean wipes them away with his thumbs. 

“Okay.” 

As they start shifting the dirt back into the grave, Cameron looks over at Dean. “So. How was your day today?”

Dean half-smiles. “Pretty good for the most part. I saw my super hot boyfriend on his lunch break in between prepping the end of a hunt. I don’t really hunt alone a lot. Ever. Dad’s pretty strict about it. This was the first time I was actually in charge, I guess. It felt good up until about ten minutes ago.” 

“You did a great job.” Dean waves off the praise even as he clings to it.  “I didn’t think it would be so quick.” 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” 

“I’d gotten so wrapped up in bringing you into my world, I forgot to ask about yours,” Cameron admits. “I got excited about sharing holidays and birthdays. It’s been wonderful watching you and Kayla get close. It’s been amazing bringing you into my life. But you had a life before you met me. I saw a tiny bit and thought I got it. The weapons, motel rooms, dangerous ends…”

“Most hunts are like this. Not worth mentioning. Short. Sweet.” Dean shrugs. “I won’t bring you out here again.”

“But now I know.”

“Now you know.” Their eyes meet across the grave. Dean smiles and Cameron’s lips tug up at the corners. He’s still overwhelmed, but they did it. And they get tomorrow to recover together on New Years Eve. 

The drive back home is quiet. The music plays at a low volume and Cameron mostly looks out the window with his face against the glass so he can look up at the stars. Dirt and tears are mixed on his cheeks, but he just quietly sings along off and on. When he falls asleep, the sun is just starting to crest over the hills in the distance. 

Dean glances over and feels the tug at his heart. Cameron’s mouth hangs slightly open, cheek still against the window. If there was a reflection, Dean could probably see just how mashed the other side of his serene face is. His hair is damp from his sweat and the cold, misty air, leaving the ends to curl in the cutest way. It’s a chaotic crown, the flips not caring if they go in the same direction, some sticking up, others twirling down. His breath fogs the glass, but it mostly recedes with the next breath in. His fingers twitch in his lap, but he never lets out a single snore. He catches it all in glimpses, his eyes drifting from the empty road every once in a while. Sure, his gaze lingers sometimes, but whose wouldn’t? 

He pulls into the garage and parks before the sun makes it into the sky. 

“Sweetie…” Dean whispers, running his hand over Cameron’s cheek. He blinks heavily and squints. “We’re home.” 

Dean gets out of the car and walks around to Cam’s side, opening the door for him. He gets out slowly and sheds the outer layer of clothing that still has dirt on it, his coat falling over his abandoned boots. Dean copies him before following him into the house. The rest of their clothes fall into the hamper as soon as they stumble into their room. Dean falls into the bed first and willingly goes when Cameron joins him and pulls him into his arms, curling around him and falling straight back to sleep. 

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!” Cameron yells over the fire alarm, his hands over his ears, eyes wide. Dean panics which doesn’t help the situation. The stove is on fire, the pancakes are burning and goopy at the same time. He’s not sure what happened, but it’s a fucking disaster. 

Driven by his panic, and panic alone, Dean grabs his cup of coffee and pours it over the stove. The flames go out, the pan of burned and gooey pancake is now coffee soup, and the entire stove is covered. He’s usually much better at this. 

Cameron opens the back door and starts fanning the smoke away from the fire alarm to cut off the incessant beeping. It doesn’t take long to turn it off. 

“Good morning,” Dean says far too cheerily for someone who just set the kitchen on fire. 

“Good morning,” Cameron says a little warily, his shoulders lowering hesitantly. 

“I think we should go out for breakfast.” Dean tries not to look behind him at the disaster even as Cameron’s eyes remain just past Dean’s shoulder. 

“I’ll go get some donuts and coffee.” He goes to move back toward his room to get dressed enough to go out but hesitates. “Do we need anything else?”

“No…” Dean says slowly, drawing out the word as he cringes guiltily when something tips and falls on the floor behind him. There’s a thud and a loud splat. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, Cameron’s eyebrows knitted together with mild concern while Dean is sure his face has been replaced with apologetic shame.

“Right.” Cameron finally goes back to his room to throw on some clothes. 

Dean’s shoulders sag and he turns to the disaster zone. A nice hot breakfast in bed. That’s all this was supposed to be. It wasn’t meant to be an alarm clock with literal flames. Coffee drips off the edge of the stove onto the floor and Dean throws a towel down in defeat. He’s about to go find the paper towels and whatever else he needs for this mess when Cameron hugs him from behind and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“It’s okay. It’s just some batter, coffee, and mild arson.” 

Dean takes a deep breath and nods. His jaw is still clenched, but Cameron’s not mad. 

“I’ll be right back with breakfast. I love you.” He kisses him again and then he’s gone. 

Dean looks at the door where he can hear the car starting and feels himself relax a little. He turns back and glares at his task ahead before going to get the cleaning supplies.

The bowl of remaining batter had been the culprit in having the nerve to drop off the edge of the counter. Sweet sludge is all over the floor. He doesn’t even want to look at it with its backstabbing ways. It was supposed to stay on the counter. Unfortunately, the bowl is plastic. And the plastic bowl had been next to the open flames. After melting off part of the bowl, it had tilted and slipped. 

The bowl and the ruined pancake meet an ugly end in the trash can. The spoon, spatula, pan, and the mug that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time get tossed into the sink. He faces the rest of the liquidy mess with a sigh. He’d been doing so well. Something had to take him down a peg. He’d been making burgers, homemade french fries, burritos, stir fry, garlic bread, gnocchi, complicated pasta dishes, calzones, pizza, everything and anything he could. But not pancakes on New Years Eve. 

By the time Cam makes it back, Dean is sitting on the floor of a cleaned kitchen, his sweats spotted with coffee, batter, and 409 cleaning spray. Cameron hands Dean a to-go cup before plopping down on the ground next to him and opening the box of donuts. 

“Sprinkle Fiend,” Dean says as he looks into the box. More than half of the baker’s dozen are covered in rainbow sprinkles. 

“I will not apologize,” Cameron grins. 

“This was supposed to be breakfast in bed,” Dean says, nodding back toward the kitchen. 

“Now it’s breakfast on the floor.” He hands Dean a powdered jelly donut. “I don’t like eating in bed anyway.” 

“What?” Dean loves eating in bed but that’s basically the easiest place to eat when you live in a motel room. More than half of his meals are on a bed. 

“There’s crumbs everywhere.” He scrunches up his face. “Not a fan. This is better.” He pushes his shoulder against Dean’s gently. It’s one of the ways Cameron says he loves him without saying it. Dean leans into the touch and takes a bite. “Exciting though, wasn’t it?” 

Dean looks over at him, mouth full, face undoubtedly covered in powdered sugar. Cameron bursts into laughter and it makes everything worth it. The coffee. The melted bowl. The mild arson. It’s all worth it for that pure joy. 


	22. Chapter 22

It’s the weekend again, 1998 three days in. The Christmas tree is gone, the ornaments all put away. The decorations have been packed up and stored in the rafters of the garage. And Dean is pinned to the carpet of the living room that Cameron just finished vacuuming. The front door is also being knocked on. 

Dean and Cameron are both breathing hard, faces looking toward the door. They’re both aware that they weren’t being quiet just a moment ago. Cameron had ground his hips into Dean’s to bring out a loud groan in between their sloppy making out. 

“Are you going to answer that?” Dean whispers. Cameron nods and gets up. There’s nothing he can do for his appearance. His face is flushed and his hair is wild from Dean’s hands running through it. The only thing he can do is adjust his pants so the bulge isn’t quite so obvious. Dean props himself up on his elbows and winks at Cam. 

“Don’t,” he warns with a smile. He pulls the door open and stands in the way. “Carol! How are you?” 

“I— Am I interrupting something?” She sounds like the town informant. Dean moves a little just in case she tries to look over Cameron’s shoulder. 

“No. Nothing. What’s up?” He sounds guilty as fuck. Dean bites his cheek to keep from laughing at him. She’s talking about town events that Dean drowns out, but she’s also asking about how his holidays were in a way that’s not even a little bit sneaky. She’s trying to find out if the rumors that Cameron Smith is dating are true. It might not be entirely unselfish either. Cameron’s a catch, but he’s been caught. 

When the door closes again, Cameron flattens his back to it and looks at Dean. “We’re fucked.”

“What? Why?” 

“Because she’s going to call Sue the moment she gets home and in about five minutes everyone in this town will know that Carol interrupted  _ something _ between me and an unknown  _ someone _ because that’s how small towns work. As soon as any one of my friends hears, that phone is going to ring.” He points to the phone on the wall accusingly. 

“It can’t work that fast. You didn’t even say anything. Relax.” Dean gets up and plops himself on the couch. 

“It can and it will. She knew.” Cameron covers his face. “I’ve been on the other side of this. I know.” He lets his hands drop and sits next to Dean. 

“She doesn’t know,” Dean says, though he isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince anymore. “Can’t you just mojo her into not calling the entire neighborhood?”

“Mojo?” Cameron laughs. 

“You know—”

“Yeah, I know, but  _ mojo _ ?” Cameron laughs harder and Dean rolls his eyes. He can’t keep himself from smiling too. “I don’t have  _ powers _ . I have  _ mojo _ .” He wiggles his fingers like a demented cartoon wizard. 

“Oh my god. You hate the other word!”

“I do. Don’t get me wrong. I do. But really? Okay. I accept. I have  _ mojo _ .” He’s not even trying to bite back the giggling. Dean covers his face to hide his own grin. 

The phone rings. 

“Fuck,” Cameron says. “Place your bets now. It’s someone asking if the rumors are true.” 

“I’m not taking a losing bet.” Dean shakes his head. Cameron gets up and goes to the phone. “Answer it!”

“I’ve never done this before!” He takes a deep breath and picks up. “Dr. Cameron Smith.” He’s almost hopeful, answering as if there’s a sliver of a hope that the call is professional. He winces and looks at Dean. “Hey, Julio…” He’s a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. Dean can’t hear what his friend is saying, but— “Yes, fine. We’ll set up a time for you to meet.” 

_ Wait, what? _ Dean widens his eyes. 

“No. Just you, Sarah, and Derek.” He mouths that he’s sorry and Dean buries his face in the couch. He’s still new at the whole boyfriend thing. He’s never had to meet anyone’s friends or family before this. He’s going to fail some kind of test. Do they know Cameron’s bi? Do they care that he’s dating a guy? Are they going to be weird about the age difference? Or the fact that they met because Dean was Kayla’s babysitter? Are they going to lie to everyone? “Fine, Grace too, but that’s it. Okay?” 

Four people. He can do that. Can he do that? 

“I was going to say next week or sometime next year.” Cameron sighs and Dean peeks over the back of the couch again. Cameron looks over and he seems to relax when their eyes meet so Dean doesn’t dare cut the contact. “Tonight?” 

“Okay,” Dean agrees meekly, voice muffled a little. 

“Tonight works. We’ll be there at five… Yeah. Bye.” He hangs up and walks back to the couch. “I’m sorry. They won’t take no for an answer.”

“Would that have anything to do with the fact that you’re the world’s most eligible bachelor?” Dean mumbles, letting Cameron pull him into his arms. 

“We don’t have to. I can call back right now and say we’re not ready.” The best part is he’s not bluffing. Dean kisses him softly, running his thumb over his jaw. 

“I can do this. For you, I can do this,” he says when their lips part, resting his forehead against Cam’s. 

Dean and Cameron sit in the car, their hands warring for the title of who can hold on tighter. They’ve been sitting here for five minutes, listening to music but not hearing the songs. Neither of them have ever done this. The closest they’d gotten was Thanksgiving. This should be a piece of cake. 

Dean would rather pie. 

“I’ll go. I’ll go. I’ll go. I’ll go,” Dean says under his breath, making a decent impression of Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. 

“That’s my line,” Cameron says without looking at him. “They’re my friends.” 

“So they should be cool with this?” Dean asks hopefully. 

Cameron nods. “If they’re not, they’re not who I thought they were,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Come on.” 

They get out of the car and Dean’s hand finds Cameron’s again as soon as he reaches the other side of the car. A kiss is pressed to his temple and then they walk up to the door. The doorbell chimes and Dean’s heart pounds. He met Jenny and that went great. He takes a deep breath. Cameron squeezes his hand. 

“They’re here!”

“Last bets on the table now! I’m answering the door!”

“Shut up!”

“Just open the damn door!”

The door opens. A man who looks to be about Cameron’s age stands in front of them. His jaw drops as his eyes land on Dean. His eyes dip to their locked hands and back up, his eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline. 

“You’ll swallow flies, Julio,” Cameron says, stepping past him and leading Dean into the house. 

“Holy shit,” one woman says as she gets off the couch. 

“This is my boyfriend, Dean,” Cameron says. Dean would say hi but he might have swallowed his vocal cords. “Dean, this is—”

“Sarah,” the  _ holy shit _ woman says, holding out her hand and grinning. Dean lets go of Cameron’s hand to shake it. She’s pretty short and has piercings running up both ears, two in her nose, one in an eyebrow, and two sleeves of tattoos running up her arms. “This is my husband, Julio,” she says, grabbing the man who’d opened the door. He shakes Dean’s hand but he still seems stunned. “And my brother, Derek.” She doesn’t have to pull over the guy with a smile that matches hers. He’s all too ready to steal Dean’s hand from Julio’s. “And his girlfriend, Grace.” Grace seems like she’s trying to be calm about the whole thing, taking his hand and not almost snapping his wrist with how vigorously she shakes. 

“...Everyone,” Cameron finishes. 

“Hi,” Dean says lamely. 

“You’re gay?” Julio asks. He looks shocked out of his mind that he’s seeing Cameron’s fingers lace with Dean’s. 

“Half,” Cameron allows. He leads Dean to the couch and they sit. Sarah sits on the other side of Dean, looking like she’s going to burst if she doesn’t ask all of her questions immediately. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Julio asks, taking a seat in the most comfortable looking recliner.

“I didn’t think it mattered in between me telling you I didn’t want to date anyone and wasn’t going to date anyone.” The words seem hilarious now that he’s holding onto Dean’s hand. Dean, who he’s been dating for almost two full months, shares a bed with every night, and is in love with. Dean, who smirks and tries not to laugh. “Shut up,” Cameron laughs, nudging him. 

“Well, we love you and welcome to the club,” Sarah says. “More importantly, we need to know how this happened, when, who kissed who first, who made the first move, why we weren’t told immediately, and why it feels like you’re already married.” 

Dean’s eyes widen but Cameron must be more than used to her talking like this. “This happened by accident. Uh. November 12th. I’m not sure who kissed who first. The kissing was kind of also the first move so…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I’ve never done this. Give me a break.” 

“And the final question?” Derek presses. 

“How about a drink?” Cameron asks, getting up. He glances at Dean. He’s going to leave him here in the lion’s den. Shit. 

“Thanks,” Dean says in response to the question. He’s going to need one if he’s going to keep up with the inquiries all night. As soon as Cameron leaves the room, the questions begin. He had his practice and breakdown with Jenny. He can do this. 

“Where did you come from?” Grace blurts out despite her trying to come off as completely calm about the whole thing. 

“Uh.” Does he say Kansas? “Not here? I moved around a lot.” 

“Have you met Kayla yet?” Julio asks. 

Dean beams immediately. “Yeah. Yes.” He glances toward the doorway where Cam disappeared. “And Jenny.”

“You met Jenny already?” Sarah gasps like it’s the biggest deal. Dean shrinks into the couch. 

“Whoa,” Derek agrees. 

Cameron walks back in with two sodas and passes one to Dean as he sits back down. Zero alcohol content. Shit. It’ll have to do. 

“We need to hear how this happened,” Sarah demands.

“The short version is we met, neither of us wanted to date, we started dating anyway, we lived happily ever after,” Cameron says. Julio shakes his head. Derek narrows his eyes. 

Grace and Sarah both say, “Long version,” in unison as if it’s a practiced thing they do. 

“I needed a temporary job as a babysitter,” Dean says. Everyone looks at him. He swallows. “I, uh. I called. Kayla and Cameron agreed to hire me. I worked for, what?” He glances at Cameron. “Two and a half days before we..?”

“Yeah.” Cameron nods. 

“Before you what?” Sarah demands before Dean can continue. 

“Before we had some afternoon delight,” Dean says at the same time as Cameron goes with, “Before we broke my bed.” Close enough. 

“We waited until Thanksgiving for Dean to meet Jenny, but he was in the hospital so then we had to wait until he got out.” Casual. Nothing to see here. Definitely not a televita trying to kill him. 

“We—”

“Why were you in the hospital?” Grace interrupts. Sarah nods. 

“Uh…” Dean looks at Cameron. Cameron’s eyes flicker to the tv by accident. Sarah’s eyebrows furrow as she follows his gaze. 

“ _ No _ !” She gasps. “ _ You _ were the guy that his receptionist tried to kill?” 

“Yeah. So anyway,” Cameron moves on quickly. “He’s kind of maybe staying with me now.”

“Maybe?” Julio asks. 

“Kind of?” Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“Completely?” Dean rephrases. Sarah squeals. 

“You went from not dating, barely considering anyone we tried to set you up with, king of being single forever... to moving in with a secret boyfriend?” Derek asks. “You didn’t even date in college! Not even Jenny!”

“Jenny and I never would have worked. We were always better as friends.” He shrugs it off and Derek nods in agreement. 

“I mean, yeah. But it’s not like you even tried. I’ve set you up on how many dates?” He’s smiling and shaking his head. “At least he’s cute.”

“Are there more questions or can we move on?” Cameron asks. 

“I will never be done with questions.” Sarah grins. “But I suppose I can pepper them throughout conversation instead of scare off your boyfriend.” She turns to Dean. “Any questions for us?”

“How did you meet Cam?” he asks.

“ _ He calls you Cam!” _ Sarah shrieks. Dean jumps at the same time as Cameron. “Sorry! Sorry.” 

“Jesus, Sarah!” Derek scolds. “Cameron and I met in college. We had a little bit of a war going on before I realized he was cool.”

“What kind of war?” 

“Music battles,” Cameron says instantly. “He played his music too loud and he lived a few rooms down. He didn’t listen when I told him to turn it down or invest in headphones, so I might have started aiming my speakers at his room and turning them up.” 

“This dude’s got a problem with classic rock,” Derek says. 

“Classic rock is never a problem,” Dean shoots back. 

“Oh. I see it now,” Grace says. 

“We met when the RA had to bring us both down to the housing office and threaten us both with kicking us out if we didn’t shut up. Best friends ever since,” Derek says with a smile. 

“Julio was a few years later when I started rock climbing,” Cameron says. Cameron hasn’t been rock climbing in a few months. After Holly, he’d had to stop going after work. When Dean showed up, he opted for evening runs instead, dragging Dean along most of the time. 

“Not as exciting as music wars,” Julio says. “But we got to talking and ended up climbing together more days than not. Then Derek got jealous.”

“I did not.”

“Derek got jealous and wanted to meet him,” Cameron says, laughing as Derek glares. 

“I tagged along because I can’t take no for an answer,” Sarah chimes in. “And I fell for Julio before the poor guy stood a chance.” Julio smiles and she blows him a kiss from across the room. 

“I met Derek like six years ago at a Dr. Dre concert but we didn’t start dating until two years ago,” Grace says. Derek looks at her with hearts in his eyes and reaches for her to come over to him. She does and he plants a kiss on her cheek while she blushes. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m still stuck on you having a boyfriend and he’s this cute thing from nowhere,” Sarah gushes. 

“I have a boyfriend,” Cam says, a smile playing on his lips like he’s glad he finally gets to say it. 

“I have a boyfriend.” Dean smiles and kisses him. There’s a whoop and cheers and Cameron kisses back. 

The bet book is brought out of the kitchen for Dean and Cameron to confirm or deny each one. It feels like a party game for nosey friends. There’s a bowl prepared for people to throw their money in. 

Cameron’s friend group is small. When he said that this was everyone, he wasn’t totally lying. Martin counts as a friend, but they only met because their daughters are inseparable. He doesn’t really chat with Martin about anything important. He certainly doesn’t count him as inner circle. From what Dean has worked out, Derek is the glue of this friend group. Everyone seems to be connected through him. Even though Derek and Julio met through Cameron, they’re brother in-laws now and have a different bond. Derek and Jenny are Cameron’s best friends. He loves them despite not wanting to get close to anyone in fear of hurting them. Which is also why his friend group remains so small. Dean knows that he won’t let anyone else in. 

They will never have to do this again. Dean doesn’t have any friends and he’s not about to invite Sam and John over sometime to gab on about how sweet Dean and Cam are. They don’t have a bet sheet of when Dean was finally going to find someone. They don’t have those kinds of dreams for him. 

“What is this? Why do you even have this?” Cameron asks as an entire ledger worth of bets is brought out. “And how old is it?”

“Jenny and I started it back in your junior year. I’ll call her to set up a dinner to give her her winnings later,” Derek says dismissively. “Jenny’s first bet when I started this was that you were bi.”

“Okay, she cheated,” Cameron laughs. “How much did you bet against her on that one?”

“Fuck. She knew?” Derek tosses a 50 in the bowl for Jenny. Everyone but Sarah does. 

“I told her probably two years before that bet was made.” Cameron’s still laughing. Dean tries to imagine sweet Jenny with her big green eyes and innocent smile hustling everyone. “You fucking fool.”

“I thought you would have told me!” Derek defends himself. Cameron shrugs. 

“What’re these bets?” Dean prompts. 

The list starts with Cameron’s sexuality and moves onto scenarios. “He’s been secretly in love with Jenny all these years.” Apparently, after that bet had been made and Jenny had scoffed and laughed at them, a second one was added. “Cameron and Jenny are secretly married and have been lying to everyone.” 

“No and no,” Cameron says, rolling his eyes. 

“Dating a patient,” Derek reads. “You aren’t, are you?” he asks, looking up at Dean. 

“No.” 

“Damn,” Julio mutters, reaching into his wallet. 

“Sleeping with someone from the school…” Derek makes a face. “We went wild with this one. There’s multiple bets on who the someone could be. One of Kayla’s teachers, the principal, a single mother, a married mother, and the PE teacher.”

“Mr. G? God, no.” Cameron scrunches up his face. 

“Told you he had better taste than him,” Sarah says to Grace. 

“Oh. You’re really an alien who can’t date any human because it could lead to the demise of your entire species,” Derek laughs. Dean’s stomach flips. It’s closer than he thinks. “No one put money on that one, but it was too funny not to write in.” 

“Not quite,” Cameron says, his tone light, lips forming a smile, but his hand tight on Dean’s. 

“That whoever you’ve been secretly dating is really ugly.” Derek looks up at Dean and shakes his head. “Really attractive.” Dean flashes a smile and everyone seems to nod in agreement. He’s used to making jokes and flirting his way through most situations, but it’s a little different when a room full of people all agree on his good looks. “Or famous.”

“Not famous,” Dean confirms. Far from famous. Hunters and fame don’t mix. 

“Oh come on!” Sarah pleads. “He was almost a murder victim! He was on tv!” 

“His face wasn’t. They never even said his name,” Grace argues right back. “Not famous.” 

The excitement stays up but the conversations seem to mellow out as Julio disappears into the kitchen to finish making dinner. Dean learns that Sarah is a tattoo artist much to her parents’ chagrin, Grace works at a record store that her brother opened, Derek is an accountant, and Sarah tells him that Julio is a carpenter. When they ask what Dean does, it’s easy to lie and say he’s a mechanic. Cameron doesn’t bat an eye at the lie. He makes a joke about babysitting. Hunting isn’t even mentioned. 

“Dinner!” Julio calls. “Serve up!”

“What’s for dinner?” Dean asks no one in particular. 

“Julio made crabcakes and french fries,” Sarah says. “He’s obsessed.” 

Crab cakes. Dean is allergic to shellfish. He doesn't advertise it. He'd found out after an unfortunate shrimp popper school lunch that ended with an ambulance ride to the ER. His dad hadn't been there, away on a hunt. John never found out. How would he? Dean never told him or Sam. He’d tried stealing an Epi-Pen just in case, but that hadn’t panned out. Besides, John doesn’t like seafood. It wasn’t something Dean had to worry about often. 

“Want me to grab you a plate?” Cameron offers. 

“I’m not really hungry,” Dean lies. 

Cameron’s eyebrows furrow. “You said you were starving right before we got here. Just fries?” Dean nods. Those should be safe. Cameron leaves Dean with Derek and Sarah to get them dinner. 

“I know I rock the afro look, but I’d kill in dreads,” Sarah says. “Just cut your hair or we’ll be twins.” 

“Just don’t get dreads and we won’t have this problem,” Derek counters. “Ten years, Sarah. Ten. Years.”

“But—”

“Ten years!” 

She sighs and looks over at Dean. “You have siblings?” 

“Yeah, a brother,” he says with a small smile. “We fight about hair too. I tell him to cut it constantly. My dad and I have both had to drag his ass to the barbers or take scissors to it ourselves a few times. Eventually, neither of us will pull that shit anymore and he’ll just turn into Chewbacca.” 

Sarah and Derek both laugh. “Guessing younger then?” Derek asks. Dean nods. 

Grace comes in with one plate with two servings worth and sits next to Derek, already eating the french fries. Cameron and Julio walk back in with two plates each. Dean takes the smaller plate of fries and thanks Cam. 

“You okay?” Cameron asks. Dean nods, reminding himself not to kiss him until after he brushes his teeth when they get home. He can tell Cameron what’s going on in the car, but he doesn’t want to tell everyone. It’s a lethal flaw to have in an already dangerous world. It’s just a weakness in a person who isn’t supposed to have any. His armor is never supposed to crack. He’s the strong and disposable one, but not weak. He can’t be weak. No one but him knows. And no one really needs to. 

“We should play a game after this,” Grace says in between fries. Sarah nods emphatically, mouth full. 

“Poker?” Dean offers. 

“No!” Cameron says and everyone looks at him. “No. These fine people have lost enough of their money tonight.” 

“Is he really that good?” Julio asks. 

“Better than you,” Cameron shoots back. Julio laughs and shakes his head, muttering an insult under his breath in Spanish. Dean hasn’t worked out what it means but he’s heard it on his telenovelas a few times. 

Dean’s lips start to tingle. He swallows, but his throat is already closing. He hands Cameron his plate and tries to breathe. Barely any air is making it to his lungs. He didn’t eat any of the crab. He should be fine. He’s not fine. He wheezes as he tries to pull in another breath. 

“Dean?” 

He passes his plate to Cameron and leans forward, trying to breathe. He’s vaguely aware of someone asking if he has an Epi-Pen, but the only time Dean had one of those, he’d stolen it from another kid and got in trouble with his dad when he’d found it. He’d never bothered buying one. 

He has to get up. They have to get out of here. He stands up and hears a crash before Cam catches him. “Dean, breathe. They’re on their way. Just breathe.” 

Dean chokes. No more air is coming into his lungs. His throat is closed. The world slides as his head tips back. 

There were lights and sirens as a mask was put over his face. An IV was threaded into his arm. He woke up in the back of the ambulance with Cameron by his side. 

“Did he eat anything before this happened?” 

“F—”

“Shellfish,” Dean had answered with heavy breaths behind his mask. “I’m allergic to shellfish.”   


The recommended time that the doctor wanted Dean to stay in the hospital for after his anaphylactic response was two days. The time that Dean stayed in the hospital was six hours. 

“I don’t do hospitals. I can breathe. We’re fine. I’m fine,” Dean says, demonstrating that he can breathe. Cameron had already folded, helping them escape the hospital with his mojo under the condition that Dean stays in bed for the two days he should be resting at the hospital. 

“You could have died,” Cameron says, an arm protectively around Dean as they walk into the house. 

“It’s only the second time. You’ll get used to it.” He tries to grin, but it falls flat with his exhaustion. He’s rarely in the hospital even though he gets hurt often enough. They’ve made do with learning to stitch each other up after fights and rest with bags of ice from the ice machines that are often just down the hall at their motel rooms. He needs to break the habit of almost dying. For his sake and Cameron’s. 

“If you pass out we’re going straight back to the hospital,” Cameron warns him. Dean waves him off. They get to the bedroom and get Dean changed into comfy pajamas after they both brush their teeth thoroughly. As soon as Dean is in bed, Cameron wraps his arms around him and breathes him in. “I never want to get used to that.”

“Knowing you, you probably won’t.” Dean cuddles him back, curling perfectly into his arms. It's nearly 1AM. He’s ready to be asleep, but it finally dawns on him that they took a taxi home. “Where’s the car?”

“I had to leave it. I’ll call.” He sits up and pauses. “Is playing a prank about this too mean?”

“What’s the prank?”

“Call them crying and telling them they killed my one and only.” He smiles and Dean laughs. “I’m doing it.” It’s probably a little mean. The last they saw was Dean probably passed out as he was taken into an ambulance with Cameron jumping in after him. He’d ruined the dinner party. What a way to make a first impression. 

Cameron leaves the bedroom door open when he goes to the phone. Dean listens, eyes closed. “Oh my god,” Cameron fake sobs. It sounds real enough that Dean almost sits up. “Oh my god. No. No. This can’t be happening.” He shouldn’t be this good. “ _ Dean _ . We were too late. We got to the hospital but it was too late. They said they did everything.  _ They did everything they could _ . I’m in love with him and he’s gone! I’ll never find someone like him again!” 

Dean smiles a little at the love declaration. How could he not? 

“No, I’m kidding,” Cameron says in his normal voice, all signs of tears suddenly gone. “He’s okay. He’s tired, but he’s resting.” He laughs. “I know I’m an asshole. Really, he’s fine. Can someone bring the car around tomorrow?” He laughs again, whoever picked up the phone probably tearing him a new asshole. “Proof of life!” Cameron calls. 

“I guess!” Dean yells back if not a little weakly. 

“See, he’s okay.” There’s a pause and Dean closes his eyes again. “Thanks, Derek. See you tomorrow.” Cameron is back a moment later. He presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Need anything?” 

“Mm…”

“Sweet dreams, Dean.” There’s another gentle kiss before he lets himself drift.


	23. Chapter 23

Children are insane. The upside to Kayla screaming right now is that Dean’s finally made it out of the realm of glimmering perfection and has made it into whatever hell this is that deems him “normal.” Everything had been fine. Dean’s not unused to being alone with Kayla even on a Saturday that Cameron had to go to work for. 

The first thing that had happened was Kayla’s disappointment at finding out that her dad had gone to work on a Saturday. The first Saturday that she’s home for after her trip out to see her grandparents. There were thunderclouds in her eyes. 

Then she had asked Dean to read to her. Which is usually fine. She hands him a book, he reads it while they sit together. Everything’s great and she either moves on, grabs another book, or reads to him. Not today. 

“You’re using the wrong voice!” she’d told him, cutting him off completely. 

“It’s the only voice I have,” he’d said maybe a little too defensively. But he didn’t know what other voice to use. 

“It’s the wrong one!” she’d shouted. 

It escalated. Fast. There was screaming. There was Dean trying to talk her down while putting the book away. Then she’d shrieked at the top of her lungs, “You’re not my dad!” and ran to her room, slammed the door, and threw something at the door between them. 

“Stop throwing things!” He can’t remember Sam ever resorting to throwing shit at him. There’s another thud. 

“Leave me alone!” And then she lets out a long, shrill shriek that feels like it pierces his eardrums and disintegrates his bones.

“Kayla!” 

She takes a deep breath and starts again. He fucked up. He doesn’t know how he fucked up or what to do, but he fucked up. He’d tried copying Cameron and being chill and reasonable and talk to her through it, but it resulted in whatever the fuck this is. 

Dean walks away from her door and picks up the phone. He doesn’t know what to do. He shouldn’t be calling. He should figure out how to do this by himself. The screams have stopped. He pauses and looks back toward her door. 

She throws open her door and glares at him. “Why are you even here? No one wants you here! Dad wouldn’t be at work if you weren’t here!” 

“ _ Kayla! _ ” The tone of voice sounds like his own dad. It makes his stomach turn and he refuses to use any of the words his father would. This is the part of the fight where John would raise his voice and Dean would rise with him. It’s when they’d be reminded that they’re doing this for their mother. That there’s worse things like demons. That if they can’t handle this, maybe they can’t handle the real world. He’s not even close to telling Kayla that there’s worse things in life than Cameron taking an extra day at work or Dean reading with the wrong voice, but the fact that it’s there in the back of his mind is enough to make him feel sick and lower his voice. “That’s uncalled for. Go back to your room and think about what you said.” 

“Just shut up!” she screams and slams her door again. He sighs and tries not to let her words sink in. She’s just having a bad day. She’s just throwing a tantrum. But he’s not her dad. And she doesn’t want him here. 

He dials Cameron’s number but there’s no answer. He’s busy working. He can’t deal with this right now. But Dean doesn’t know what to do. It’s not him she wants. Dean dials another number. 

“Hello?” Jenny sounds exhausted. 

“It’s Dean. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have called but—”

“What’s going on?”

“I read with the wrong voice, I’m not her dad, and no one wants me here apparently,” Dean says flatly. “She’s screaming and throwing shit and I don’t know what to do.”

“Welcome to parenting,” Jenny says with a mild groan. “Okay. First of all, you can do this.” 

“I don’t think I can. Are you sure you shouldn’t just come over?” Dean looks over at her door. Kayla is quiet which is concerning but at least she’s not screaming and throwing things. 

“No. You can do this, Dean.” 

After she talks to him, Dean takes a deep breath and goes back to Kayla’s room. He knocks gently like he’s seen Cameron do a few times and opens the door even though she’s moved on from screaming to the silent treatment. She’s on the floor amid her destruction with her arms limp at her sides in defeat. 

“Can we be done throwing things now?” Dean asks. Kayla looks up at him and nods. “Are you normally allowed to throw things when you get angry?” She shakes her head and wipes her face. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s quiet and she won’t look at him again. 

Dean sits on the floor in the doorway and rests his back against the frame. “I know I’m not your dad.” She doesn’t answer. “I was here to help so you had someone to be with while you dad was at work. It’s a lot more complicated than that now, but it’s still part of it. When he has to go to work, I’m supposed to be here to keep you safe and play with you and read in the wrong voice.” 

“You’re not my babysitter.”

“Not really anymore,” he admits. “But are you mad at me for being here and having the wrong voice or are you mad about something else?” She’s obviously mad about something else, but Jenny told him to ask her so he’s asking. 

“Dad isn’t supposed to work on Saturdays.” Her voice wavers and rises but she’s not yet yelling again. “Monday through Friday. That’s when he works.  _ My  _ day is Saturday. We were supposed to go ice skating. Remember?”

“We still are. He only goes when there’s an emergency. Someone else needed him really bad. But he’ll be back and you can still go ice skating.” She nods a little reluctantly, a silent  _ I guess _ . “My dad worked on weekends too. And weekdays. Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for a long time.” He looks at the wall that’s painted a faded purple. “I had to stay around for my brother to keep him safe. Play with him. Read to him with the wrong voice.” 

“You only have one voice,” she reminds him quietly. He smiles and looks over at her. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn’t mean it,” she says, wiping her face some more to get rid of the tears she hadn’t already gotten. “I like having you here.”

“Thanks, princess.” He likes being here. She smiles a little and they stay like that for a minute before he asks, “Are we done fighting?”

“Yeah.” She crawls across the floor to hug him and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Can I read to you now?” Her voice is muffled in his chest. 

“Of course.”

Cameron and Kayla are at the ice rink. Dean is also freezing his ass off in the cold, but not because he wanted to strap blades to his feet and try to stay upright on frozen water. He’d stayed behind so they could have some time together. When he finished his book and cleaned a little, his eye caught the unfinished treehouse in the backyard. So now he’s wearing one of Cameron’s coats while he hammers wood together outside. 

“I don’t even know how to make a treehouse!” Dean yells at himself, breath puffing to make it a comical outburst. “Nineteen years old and I can kill jeepers creepers but I’ve never gotten an A in woodshop.” 

But the house is coming together. The roof stays in one place now and the walls are up. Dean pulls on one of the boards and wiggles it. It moves a tiny bit but one more nail should fix it. He grabs another one from his pocket but as soon as he hits it, the phone inside starts ringing. He puts his things down and climbs down the ladder before heading inside. 

“Hello?” he answers, shutting the door behind him.

“Dean?” 

“How the fuck did you get this number, Sam?” Dean demands, his blood running cold. 

“I told you I’d trace the number if I had to and you told me to,” Sam bites back. He didn’t think he’d actually fucking do it. “Don’t make me find out where you are based on the number.”

“Don’t. I’m safe and I’m fine. Why’re you even calling? I have a pager.” He moves into the kitchen and starts making coffee. 

“Have you checked it in the past month?” 

Shit. He hasn’t. It’s still in the duffle bag. He’s been ignoring it on purpose. His heart tugs. He’s the worst brother. He’s supposed to be with Sam. He’s being pulled in two different directions. For the first time, someone other than Sam is winning. “I’ve been busy, kid. What’s up?”

“We haven’t moved from the last place. Dad found a place that has books that might know something about the thing that killed Mom. It’s a little weird, but I think he’s waiting for you or the weather to ease up. When are you coming back?” 

“How’s school?” Dean asks instead of answering. He doesn’t know when he’s going to go back. The answer very well be never. As long as he knows Sam’s safe… he has no reason to go back. 

“The Valentine’s dance is in a month but everyone’s already planning and it’s taken over the school. Everything is pink and red.” He sighs. 

“Are you going?” He tries to make it sound teasing but he actually wants to know. 

“Probably not,” Sam laughs. 

“It doesn’t even count as a party. Just ask someone out and get your ass to the school dance,” Dean orders. He’s never gone to a school dance. He almost did once, but it didn’t work out. It’s not really his scene anyway, but Sam should go. 

“You’ve never even gone to a dance before!”

“I don’t dance,” Dean says. He pours his coffee while Sam counters that Dean dances all the time in the car. “That’s different. But you should go. What? You want to spend Valentine’s day with the saddest sack in the world?”

“Good point.” 

“We’re  _ home _ !” Kayla announces loudly as she opens the door. 

“Shit!” Dean yells. 

“Dean?” 

“I have to go,” Dean says. 

“We went on the ice and then Dad fell on his butt but I didn’t!” Kayla says as she spins in circles. 

“Who is that?” Sam asks. 

“I really have to go. I’ll keep the pager on me. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.” He hangs up before Sam hears anything else. “I bet you skated circles around him,” Dean says to Kayla, letting himself breathe out. 

“Uh-huh!” 

Dean looks over at Cameron. “How’s your butt?” 

Cameron laughs. “ _ Fine _ . Oh, did you make coffee?” He walks over and gives Dean a kiss before grabbing himself a mug and pouring some coffee. 

“Do we have paint by any chance?” Dean asks. “I still need to fix the last board and sand the edges a little, but I know where that stuff is.”

“What?” Cameron turns to face him, his eyebrows scrunched together. 

“The treehouse. I don’t usually paint, but—”

“Wait, you finished the treehouse?” Cameron goes to the backdoor and looks outside. “Dean!”

“Was I not supposed to?” He walks over to Cameron and looks up at it. It could be neater, but he tried. 

“No, it’s great. Thank you.” Cameron kisses him again and grins. “We can make a trip to the store for some paint a little later. Let her pick out the colors.”

“It’s going to look insane.”

“Majestic,” Cameron corrects him. Dean leans against his side, both of them still staring out the window at the treehouse like it’s Michelangelo’s David rather than a few planks of wood nailed together by Dean. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting an extra chapter this week because it's my birthday! :)

The hot lunch of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches lays forgotten in the kitchen, served up but left to cool. Dean is on the table instead, devouring Cameron. They don’t waste any time, hands fumbling at each other’s pants as they kiss. Dean’s fingers are quicker. He pulls the boxers and pants down just enough and runs his thumb over the tip. Cameron sucks in a breath and bites Dean’s lip, yanking his pants down. 

He flips Dean over and with some lube that Cam had grabbed from the bedroom less than five minutes ago, he pushes into Dean. His hands are tight on Dean’s hips and his thrusts are unforgiving. Dean moans and grips the table his face is pressed to. 

Cameron reaches under and Dean feels his hand close around him. He makes a noise, the word “yes” somehow unavailable at the moment. Cam’s lips graze Dean’s neck, his breath hot and fast. 

“Fuck!” Cameron moans as he comes. Dean isn’t far behind.

He pulls out and Dean turns around. Cameron’s hand is dripping with come. Dean pulls him back to him and kisses him hard, tongue finding his easily. 

Quickies are both the best and the worst. They have to be fast because Cameron has to be able to eat and make it back to the office in time for his next appointment. But now Dean just wants more. He wants to take off the rest of their clothes and fuck again as soon as they’re hard again. He wants to feel Cameron’s lips all over him. He wants more. 

“We have to clean up,” Cameron murmurs into his mouth. 

“No,” Dean whines back. Cameron laughs and kisses him a few more times before pulling away. Dean reluctantly pulls up his pants and goes to get something to clean up his come while Cameron disappears to the bathroom. 

When he comes back, everything is cleaned and Dean has the soup and sandwich on the table. “Wait,” Dean says, getting up. Cameron freezes and waits as Dean fixes his hair so he looks like the professional version of him again. 

“Thanks.” He’s used to it now. It’s something he didn’t have to worry about before. He wasn’t having quickies in the middle of workdays before he met Dean. He doesn’t think about fixing his appearance throughout the day like everyone else seems to. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Dean jokes. “I didn’t know you were coming home for lunch.”

“What can I say? I missed you.” He shrugs. 

Dean pushes the bowl toward Cameron to offer to share as he rips the sandwich in half. Cameron takes the half with a small smile and dips it into the soup at the same time as Dean. 

“I may have heard news about Marie,” Cameron says slowly. 

“What about her?” 

“Well, since I kind of kept the police from being able to talk to you, find out who you are, or get your statement, they had no case. Her lawyer kept her from confessing even though she was more than ready to plead guilty when I saw her last so… There’s no case. They let her out while you were away.” He looks apologetic as if any of this is his fault. But Marie had never even wanted to hurt Dean. Roger was the one who tried pulling the trigger. Dean shrugs. 

“Did you only find that out today?” Dean asks when Cameron doesn’t continue. 

“I knew she was free, but I found out she’s selling her house today. She’s already packed up and left.” Dean nods slowly. It’s sad that she was attacked too but she’s the one whose face was plastered on the news and had to leave her home. If she had killed Dean, she would have been next. “Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns?” 

Dean sighs. “I don’t like her, but she doesn’t deserve this. I don’t blame her and I’m fine. I finished the varnish layer today so I should be able to start painting tomorrow while Kayla’s at school.” 

“Is it Wednesday already?” Cameron shakes his head, allowing the conversation diversion. He knows when to drop a subject or let Dean push a topic away. “January moves too fast.” 

“Where did you put the photo strip of Kayla and I? The one with the costumes is missing,” Dean says suddenly, remembering from when he’d woken up that morning. 

“I brought it to work. I put it on my desk.” Dean smiles as he looks down and finishes the rest of his sandwich. “Shit, is that the time?” Cameron asks. Dean looks at his watch. 

“I’ll drive you. Let’s go.” Dean wipes his hands to rid the crumbs before he grabs the keys. He steps on it and laughs when Cameron protests about the speed. “Live a little.” 

“Speed demon,” Cameron says. Dean flashes a wicked grin. 

“I’ll pick you up with Kayla later,” Dean says when he pulls up to the curb. Cameron leans over and kisses him. 

“I love you. See you later,” he says as he gets out. 

“Love you,” Dean says with a small wave, hand still on the steering wheel. The door closes and he heads back home. The word home has meaning now and it’s a cute little house with Cameron and Kayla. This is all becoming his new normal. It’s both terrifying and invigorating. 

Dean checks the time as he walks back inside. It’s only a few minutes past one. He drops the keys back on their hook and starts for the couch where he plans to drown in telenovelas when the phone rings. He goes to the phone cautiously. Sam’s at school. If John has the number, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. 

“Hello?” 

It’s Kayla’s school. For half a beat he thinks she’s in trouble. Those are the only calls he really remembers getting about Sam. He’d gone through that stage where he’d gotten into random fights with other kids and Dean had to be called in more than once. But Kayla doesn’t get in fights. “She’s sick.” 

“I’m on my way,” Dean says, almost ready to hang up and jump back in the car without his shoes on. 

“You might need to bring a bowl,” the nurse warns him. Gross.  _ Gross _ . 

“Thanks.” He hangs up and grabs a bowl from the kitchen before stepping into his boots and grabbing the keys. Part of him is freaking out, but a different part that’s too protective for his own good takes over. It’s close to the feeling before facing up against some big bad. It’s the steely calm that covers the fear. 

He parks in the nearly empty parking lot right next to the office and walks in. It’s the first time he’s been inside the school. It’s somehow nicer than any of his past schools, but it’s just an office. 

“May I help you?” the woman at the front desk asks. 

“I’m here to pick up Kayla Davis,” Dean says. He almost says Smith but she has her mother’s last name. 

“Name?” she asks as if Kayla isn’t sitting in the nurse's office down the hall puking her guts out and waiting to go home. 

“Uh, Dean Winchester?” He has no idea what it’ll do to have his name. There’s a strong possibility he’s not on whatever list she’s checking and he’ll have to call Cameron or Jenny to come home from work. 

“Great. This way,” she says after spotting his name. 

He barely registers that he’s officially on her emergency contacts list as he goes down a short hallway and finds Kayla. She looks miserable. The trashcan is in between her legs, her arms loosely hugging it. When she looks up at him he sees how pale she is. The only part of her skin that has color is the heated red high in her cheeks. 

“How ya feelin’, princess?” Dean asks, sitting next to her and trying not to breathe in. He moves her hair away from her face as she takes a deep breath. She’s burning up.

“I don’t feel good.” This poor girl. Her voice is pathetically weak and she looks like she’s going to throw up again. She does and he looks away, trying to tune out the sound of the splatter as he gags. 

“I know. Let's get you home so you can not feel good there. We can get you some medicine, some ice chips, and a movie. How’s that sound?” She nods. “Come on.” He stands up and grabs her backpack. He’s going to have to clean it. It looks like someone else already tried, but it looks like maybe it had been victim number one. Kayla pushes the trashcan away and stands up. She reaches for his hand and he takes it despite her being germy and gross. 

She makes it to the car without incident and climbs into the backseat. Dean rolls the windows down and gives her the bowl. “Tell me if I need to pull over.” It’s a short drive, but he’ll stop as many times as she needs. 

Kayla nods and closes her eyes as her face rests on the door, the cold air probably a relief. “Where’s Daddy?” she asks softly as Dean starts the car. 

“He’s still at work. I’ll call him as soon as we get you home and set up on the couch, okay?” He glances into the rearview mirror and frowns. She looks miserable. “Hang in there, kid.” 

It’s the first time Dean can remember driving this slow. He’s barely at the speed limit and she’s still begging him to slow down. 

When they make it home, Kayla doesn’t move. Dean gets out of the car and opens her door. She unbuckles her seatbelt and wraps her arms around him as he picks her up. He’ll come back for the other things later. 

They get her changed into some comfy pajamas and she curls up on the couch with the bowl on the floor. The thermometer says she’s just over 100. He puts in Sleeping Beauty before grabbing the phone and calling Cameron. 

“Dr. Cameron Smith,” Cam answers after Dean goes through the receptionist firewall. 

“It’s me,” Dean says, a little relieved that Cameron actually picked up. 

“Hey, you,” Cameron says. “What’s up?”

“I just picked Kayla up from school. She’s pretty sick. Fever. Throwing up. Whole nine.” 

“Is she okay? Do you need me to come home? I can reschedule my appointments.” He sounds both like he’s about to come home anyway and like he’s trying to tell himself to stay at work. 

“She’s okay right now. I’m about to get her some ice chips. She has a movie on. I’d give her Tylenol but I don’t think she can keep anything down right now.” Dean glances over at the tv. 

“I’ll see if I can come home a little early.” Cameron sighs. “Thanks, sweetie. Give her a kiss for me?” 

“I will. See you after work.”

“Love you.” 

“Love you.” He hangs up and goes into the kitchen to grab the ice for her. He brings her a bowl of it with a spoon like the world’s worst bowl of cereal. 

“Need anything?” Dean asks, fully prepared to just keep going back and forth grabbing her things and washing his hands obsessively to keep the sickness contained. 

“Cuddles,” she says as she takes a bite of ice. She moves a little to give him the spot behind her. Dean sits where instructed and she scoots back against him so she’s between his legs with her head rested just below his chest. If he dies of the plague because of this, then so be it. 

The front door opens and Dean looks up at Cameron. He’s trapped under Kayla who’s finally asleep. She only threw up three more times which was disgusting, but they made it through it. 

“Oh,” Cameron breathes, visibly swooning at the sight of them. Dean offers a crooked smile but stays quiet. “How is she?” 

“Feverish. Contagious. Disgusting. Still cute.” Dean leans his head back to accept upside down kisses from Cam. “She still can’t keep anything down. We tried water when the ice chips went well but one step forward was three back.” 

“I can pick us up some food and get her some Pedialyte,” Cameron offers. “I’ll check how much we have in the way of medicine for her. Do you need anything before I go?” 

“I—” He’s about to say no, because Dean Winchester never needs anything. But he’s been trapped here for a while. “Water please.”

Cameron nods and fills Kayla’s soccer water bottle before bringing it to him. He checks for medicine and makes a short list before he kisses Dean goodbye and leaves just as quickly as he came. Dean listens to the car start and drive away before he picks his book back up off the floor and starts up where he’d left off. 

The pager goes off ten minutes later. He sighs and Kayla stirs just enough to smear her drool across his shirt. He doesn’t know when his reaction to kid slime changed from a grimace to a small smile, but here he is. When she settles again and lets out a soft, definitely asleep sound, he lifts his pager to read the message. It’s his dad. Hunt. Location? Call. 

_ Busy _ , is his only answer. 

When the fever breaks, the stomach flu ceases, and Kayla suddenly feels perfect again, it’s Saturday morning. Cameron threw her in the shower and took everything she touched while she was sick and put it in the washer despite Dean’s suggestion to burn it in the driveway and just buy her new things. It’s already been made clear that just because she’s feeling better doesn’t mean her birthday party can commence. It’s been pushed off by a week and today has been deemed a rest day so she won’t relapse. 

“Burn it,” Dean says as he passes Cameron whose arms are full with the second load of sick laundry. 

“No,” Cameron answers, dragging out the word in sing-song over his shoulder. 

“Pancakes!” Kayla says excitedly as Dean walks into the living room. 

“Definitely not.” He doesn't miss a beat. “We have plain toast and applesauce.” 

Kayla makes a face. She knows they have much more than that in the kitchen, but it’s all she’s allowed to have after all that. They’re not diving into the heaviest, most sugar-infused breakfast she can think of. “But I’m all better.”

“If you still feel better by lunch maybe we can ramp it up.”

“Not more Winchester kitchen-sink stew.” She wrinkles her nose. It’s the only thing he could think of to make. His dad used to make it when he or Sam got sick. It was disgusting, but it killed any bug, cleared out the sinuses, and seemed to have the ability to raise the dead. 

“No. Not more of that,” he promises. “But it worked.”

“Or the medicine worked.” 

He rolls his eyes with such exaggeration she giggles. He makes her some tea and toast for breakfast as he sips on his coffee and pours himself a bowl of cereal. “So, what are we doing today?” he asks as he sits at the table with her. 

“If we ask super nicely, maybe Dad will let us play with his old camera.” 

Dean goes to ask while she nibbles on her toast. “Hey, Cam?” He leans against the doorway to the garage where he’s starting the dryer on the first load. 

“What’s up?”

“Kayla wants to play with your camera.” He’s never even seen a camera in this house. 

“She always wants to play with that thing,” Cameron sighs. “Uh. I can get it down. I probably don’t have a lot of film, though. It’s been awhile.” 

“I didn’t know you had a camera.” 

Cameron nods and leads Dean back into the house. “I got it when I went to college. I also took some photography classes. I only ever used it for nature shots though. I have a few different cameras from when I was studying it, but she means the Polaroid.” 

They go into Cameron’s room and he pulls down a box from the high shelf in the closet. It had been stuffed into the far corner probably to prevent it from falling. There are rolls of undeveloped film in the box with a few other cameras but he takes out the OneStep 600. He hands it to Dean and walks out to the living room with him. 

“Say cheese,” Dean says, holding up the camera. Kayla grins widely and Dean snaps the picture. The square photo comes out, the color weird and filmy before it develops. 

“You have to be careful with it,” Cameron warns her. 

“I’ll be super careful!” she promises. “Thanks, Daddy!” 

“Uh-huh.” He plants a kiss in her hair and goes to get himself more coffee. 

After she finishes eating, she takes a picture of her treehouse. She tries to take one of Cameron but he sidesteps and gives her a look that tells Dean that they’ve had more than one conversation about how he doesn’t like to be photographed. She’s setting up a photoshoot in her room when Dean checks the one picture he took. 

His heart stops. 

“Cam?”

“What’s wrong?” Dean hands him the picture of an empty chair beside a table with some half-eaten toast and tea. “No.  _ No. _ She’s only eight!”

“Maybe it was a fluke.” There’s no hope in his voice. If her image isn’t coming up already, it’s the beginning of her turning. 

“This can’t be happening already,” Cameron pleads as he finally looks up from the picture. 

Dean walks back to Kayla’s room. “Can I see the camera for a minute?” he asks. She grabs it from her dresser where it was waiting for her to finish setting up the wedding of Batman and Barbie. Dean aims it at her again. She sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes. He takes the picture and forces a smile before handing her the camera again. “Few minutes,” Dean tells Cameron as he walks back out to him. 

“Dean…” His hands are shaking. He’s been holding onto the hope that she would never turn or that she just missed the gene for eight years. His worst nightmare is coming true. 

“It’s…” Dean can’t say it’s okay. Not right now. 

“Even if it was just a fluke and it’s the first time and the rest won’t happen for another week, month, year, whatever— She is. And I have to tell her. And I’ll have to tell Jenny.” 

Fuck. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d known that Cameron would have to talk to Kayla, of course. But how is he supposed to break it to Jenny that she can’t take pictures of her daughter anymore? That she’ll never get to meet her eyes in the mirror again? That she will gain the ability to feed off of human life force in multiple forms and force people to do things with her mind? How will he tell her that her daughter isn’t just human because the man Jenny has been calling her best friend for years isn’t entirely human? 

They look down at the photo square and wait, their hands tightly clasped. Her goofy face shows up and Cameron lets out a shuttered breath but there’s not enough relief in it. It’s still the beginning. But now her life is going to change. 


	25. Chapter 25

Cameron holds Kayla gently as he looks into her sweet sleeping face. He was going to tell her. He can’t. Not yet. Not four days before her birthday. He takes the picture out of his pocket and looks at the empty chair. None of this is fair.

Cameron never wanted to get married. He never wanted to fall in love. He never wanted to have kids. Getting married ensured endangering someone just by being close to him, either in proximity or emotionally. A hunter had killed his parents, but his mother had never even known that her husband and son were televita. She’d died in the same blaze that killed her husband and all she ever did was love the man. But passing his genes on? He’d hoped more than he’d had a right to that Kayla wouldn’t inherit anything from him. 

The day he’d found out that Jenny was pregnant, he’d forced her to leave without using his voice. He’d forced everyone within fifty foot to turn around and go away as he’d curled up on the floor of his dorm room and screamed. Screamed in agony, in fear, in sorrow for ever having done this to Jenny and their future child. He’d told her he would be there every step of the way and that they were still best friends. He’d agreed when she thought up the idea of living together after the semester ended even though every barricade he’d built within himself was telling him not to. And for 8 years and 9 months, everything was fine. But now his baby girl is changing and he has to tell Jenny. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, brushing Kayla’s hair out of her face. He carefully removes himself from her grasp and pulls her blankets up around her shoulders. “I love you.” 

Cameron walks out into the hallway and closes her door. His heart is pounding and he didn’t even manage to tell her the truth. She can have a few more days. She should have a few more years. 

“No,” Dean says forcefully. His walls are up, his emotions guarded better than a high security prison. “You wanted me gone. I’m gone. You can’t have it both ways... No... Fuck off. You don’t  _ have _ to hunt... No— Mom’s dead.” Dean glances over his shoulder and sees Cameron. His brow furrows and he looks back at the wall. “Sorry, sir. Yes, sir.” He hangs up and Cameron waits for the walls to crumble like they always do. It takes a moment this time. Then anger and anguish rush together. 

“What happened?” 

Love spikes through his pain as Dean turns back to look at Cameron. “Nothing. You didn’t talk to her, did you?” 

Cameron shakes his head and Dean goes to him, folding himself into Cameron’s arms perfectly. “I couldn’t.”

“You have to tell Jenny,” he says softly. 

He knows he has to tell Jenny. They have been best friends since he was sixteen. She was his first friend in college. She had always been honest and open. He’d told her everything that he could. But he’d never even glossed the surface of the truth. But then, who thought they’d have to go over what species they are in the ice breakers round of conversation? He has to tell her that he’s been lying to her for 10 years and that her daughter isn’t even human. There is no way that this is going to go well, but it has to happen. 

“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” Cameron says. “I’ll call her and tell her that I’m dropping Kayla off tomorrow morning and we can talk while you two… Stay in the car or go somewhere. I don’t want her hearing this.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Dean promises. 

Dean and Kayla are at a diner eating breakfast and coloring on the paper placemats while Cameron stands outside of Jenny’s colorful house. He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. His stomach is in knots. He tries not to bite into the happiness that radiates from her through the door as he raises his fist to knock. 

“Come in!” Jenny calls. Cameron pushes the door open and steps inside. He leaves his shoes by the door. She’s the reason he takes his shoes off when he walks into his own house. It was one of her rules when they moved in together what feels like a million years ago. “Hey, Cameron.” She looks around and raises an eyebrow. “Did you forget Kayla?”

“No. She’s finishing breakfast with Dean. I needed to talk to you.” 

“Thinking about proposing to Dean? I give my blessing,” she jokes. It makes it so much harder. She’s happy. She’s joking around and he’s a ball of anxiety standing in pools of her joy. “Oh. Was that actually it?”

“No.” He shakes his head and sits on her couch. It’s ugly as sin but it’s the most comfortable thing he’s ever sat on. Over in the corner is Kayla’s piano. The one they won’t be able to take pictures of her playing anymore. “Please sit,” he says. 

“This seems serious.” She sits down on the other side of the couch and gives him one of those looks. He doesn’t have to read her eyes to feel the worry seeping in. 

“I have to tell you something. I should have told you a long time ago, but…” He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair. “I couldn’t.” 

“Cameron?”

“Fuck, okay.” He takes a deep breath and looks at her. “You believe in ghosts.” She nods even though he doesn’t need confirmation. “And psychics and monsters under the bed.” 

“The monsters under the bed thing was a joke,” she says slowly. 

He nods and swallows. “I don’t take pictures or have any mirrors in my house because I don’t have a reflection. I haven’t had one since I was thirteen. I’m not in any high school yearbooks. I don’t have an embarrassing driver’s license photo. There’s just an empty box. I make people ignore it because  _ I can _ make people ignore it.”

“Are you alright?” She reaches out as if to feel his forehead but he moves away. 

“Kayla’s changing now. I hoped she wouldn’t at all, but it was dumb to think she wouldn’t. She’s turning into a televita like me and like my dad before me. Like his parents and their parents and it goes back, okay?” 

“What are you talking about?” Jenny’s happiness has evaporated completely. He breathes in her concern. 

“I’m a monster, Jenny. I don’t have a reflection, but that’s nothing. I can feel emotions and feed off of them. I feed off of human life. Or the energy of it. I can feel and taste the emotions of anyone within a certain distance. I don’t know how far because I haven’t tested it, but it’s pretty damn far. I can make people do things. Walk away, close a door, make a cake, sit down.” He swallows hard, remembering Dean’s face when he’d told him to sit. “I thought Kayla had a chance of not turning, but it’s starting.”

“You’re scaring me,” Jenny says. He knows. Cameron takes the picture out of his pocket and hands it to her. He pulls out his wallet and gives her his blank IDs. “No. I’ve seen these before. They…”

“They never had a picture. I just made you ignore it.” 

“Cameron. I don’t know what’s going on, but we can get you help.” 

“I’ll show you.” He gets up from the couch and starts for the bathroom where the first mirror he can think of is. He hates mirrors. It’s why he got rid of the ones in his house. It’s uncomfortable looking into a reflective surface and seeing the room behind you rather than your own face. 

“Cameron, sit down,” Jenny pleads. “We can call—”

He turns and sees her going to the phone. “No!” He stops her and watches her stop in her tracks. She blinks and shakes her head. “You can’t tell anyone about this.” She looks up at him with questions in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know it’s uncomfortable. I didn’t know until Dean told me. But I can’t have you calling Derek or Sarah about this.” 

“You made me stop?” she whispers, her voice shaking a little. 

“Just come here, please.” He turns around again and heads for the bathroom. Her footsteps are hesitant behind him. He opens the door and steps into the bathroom. The mirror shows nothing but the painting behind him. He stares into it. There’s always a small hope that someday his reflection will come back but it never does. 

Jenny’s face appears in the mirror and he immediately drowns in her horror. She screams and he backs up against the far wall. 

“Cameron!” Tears start streaming down her face. “What’s—?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He puts his hands up defensively. 

“Why? What?  _ Cameron! _ ” She backs away from him, a hand over her mouth. 

“Don’t be scared of me. I’m still me. I’m still me.” He can’t make himself smaller. “Kayla is still her. She will always be  _ her _ but—”

“ _ NO _ !” Jenny screams. 

“Jenny—”

“You’re telling me that you’re… you’re… What? And that my little girl isn’t human? That my baby girl is a monster?”

“She’s not,” he says forcefully. She will never be a monster. “Kayla is a televita but she will  _ never _ be a monster. We have to teach her and protect her.”

“Televita?” She shakes her head. He’s never felt Jenny feel so much negative emotion at the same time. He wants to curl in on himself. Was there another way to do this? “You said Dean told you. Dean knows?”

“Dean’s a hunter. He tracks and kills monsters like me. Those murders that were happening was another televita that he was hunting. It’s a long story.” He doesn’t want to drag Dean into this. 

“Why would someone want to hunt you? Televita kill people? Do you kill people, Cameron?” She’s shaking. He takes a step forward because his first instinct is always to comfort her, but she steps away, her eyes wide. 

“I haven’t killed anyone in a long time. It wasn’t something I planned on doing in the first place. I was a kid.” Wrong answer. Jenny’s eyes roll back and she faints. Cameron lurches forward and catches her. He has enough time to carry her to the couch before she comes to. 

“Get away from me!” 

He puts his hands up and backs away from her. She’s never looked at him like that before. He gets as far as he can before his back hits the wall. “I’m still me.”

“Cameron. You just told me you’ve killed someone. You have mind powers. You eat  _ people _ .” 

“I killed my abusive foster dad before I knew how to stay fed. I figured out how to use my…  _ powers _ … without hurting anyone. And I don’t eat people. I feed off of their emotions and life.” It doesn’t make him sound better. “I can teach Kayla how to do everything so she doesn’t hurt anyone, but you need to protect her even if she is like me.” 

“I will  _ always  _ protect her, Cameron,” she says defensively. Her spite is bitter. 

“I know.” He rakes his hands through his hair again. 

“What’s going to happen to her?” she asks. 

“She’ll stop showing up in pictures. She’ll stop showing up in mirrors and windows. Puddles. Then, if she’s anything like me, she’ll start feeling like she’s starving no matter how much she eats. The first person who feels an emotion too strongly near her will feel like a full feast. She’ll accidentally force someone to do something at some point after she’d fed a few times.” Jenny looks like she wants to force herself to wake up. “I can teach her so she won’t hurt anyone.” 

Jenny hasn’t started to relax. She still sees a monster. 

“I’m sorry.” He can’t stand the look on her face. “I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t expect the sob that he chokes on. He covers his face. “I’m still me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I can feel your fear, Jenny.” He sighs and tries to force his breathing to normal. 

“This is scary. All of this is scary.” She laughs but there’s no humor. “I just found out that my best friend isn’t even human and my daughter isn’t either and you want me to not be scared?”

“I don’t want you to be scared of me. I don’t want you to be afraid of Kayla.” He drops his hands and looks at her again. “You know me.”

“I thought I did.”

“Nothing’s changed.” 

“I still love you, but I need more than a minute,” she says quietly. Cameron nods. “What do I need to do?”

“Kayla doesn’t know yet. I’ll tell her. I just can’t yet.” He wipes his face. “She can’t have pictures taken anymore. Her birthday party is here next weekend but she can’t have pictures taken if she’s randomly not showing up in them anymore. If her reflection stops in the mirror before I’ve talked to her, keep her calm and call me. I don’t know what else to do at this point.” 

“Are you okay?” Jenny asks after a beat of silence. 

Cameron shakes his head. “I never wanted this to happen, Jenny. And I feel like I’ve lost you. But I never dated anyone and I kept everyone at arms length to keep them safe from all of this and now it’s blowing up in my face. I shouldn’t have been so careless in college. I shouldn’t have made friends or slept around. I should have kept myself away from all of you.”

“No.”

“Yeah!” He shakes his head again. “Fuck, Jenny. Look at this. Look at this fucking mess. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Can I hug you?” she asks hesitantly. 

He thinks about it. Any other time, he would have said yes immediately. Right now, he has to think about it. Her eyes search his face as he thinks about all the times he could have pushed her away before Kayla was even an idea. But she’s his friend and even after all of this, she just called him her best friend. She just told him she still loves him. Even if her world is being torn apart. Finally, he nods. 

Jenny gets up and crosses the room to him to hug him. She’s small. She’s always been small. He always feels like he has to stoop a little to hug her and she almost always goes on her tiptoes to hug him. “Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she whispers. 

A tear rolls down his cheek and he holds onto her tighter. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“Tell me what happened,” she says as she lets go of him and steps away. 

“What?”

“You want to teach her so she doesn’t repeat your mistakes. What happened?” She’s trying to prepare herself. She’s trying to see what a worst case scenario would look like. 

“Right now?”

“Kayla’s with Dean,” Jenny says simply. “I need to know, Cameron.” 

Cameron shifts uncomfortably and looks at his feet as she backs up and plops into one of her chairs. He’s only talked to Dean about this. Dean understands and somehow doesn’t get scared when he hears about anything Cameron’s done in the past. 

“What am I supposed to say, Jenny?” He sighs as he looks up at her. She’s already freaked out. He doesn’t want to dump more on her. He doesn’t even want her to know. It’s a part of his life that he’s boarded up and only let one other person into. 

“You killed someone.” The words hang in the air. 

He can’t look at her. “When it first started, I was just hungry all the time. And then there was this kid at school. Ben, I think? He was having a bad day. And it was the best thing I had ever tasted. I kept eating it until he passed out. He was the first. The power of persuasion came next a week later. Jacob had had his first kiss right before class. I started draining him. He’d tried going to the nurses office. He’d stood up to tell the teacher he didn’t feel well. I made him sit back down and stop talking so I could keep eating. I didn’t have my dad around to tell me that I should take small doses from different people throughout the day instead. I didn’t know I could put someone in a coma. After it had happened too many times, I forced myself to stop. Not feeding made me weaker and I was afraid that making someone do anything would land them in the hospital or worse. I just. Stopped. Until after I killed two people. Then I figured out what I had to do.”

Jenny swallows audibly. She can’t process this much at once. There are too many conflicting emotions. She’s used to empathizing and sympathizing with Cameron. She’s used to being his friend and being on his side. But how is she supposed to feel now? She needs more than a minute. “And you’re going to teach Kayla.”

“I have to. It’s easy to get so hungry you bleed them dry. She has to learn so it never happens. There’s ways to do it without hurting anyone.” He wrings his hands because there’s nothing else to do. He can only hope that everything is okay after this. He can only hope that she stops looking at him like that and things will go back to normal.

“Do you…” She hesitates and he looks up at her. She’s chewing on her lip. “Have you ever fed on me… or Derek? Do you feed on Dean?” 

Cameron lowers his eyes. “Yes.” She stays silent but he can feel her inner turmoil. “I should go.” 

He puts his shoes on and doesn’t dare look over at her. Her best friend changed from being the nicest guy she’d ever met to a monster in less than an hour on a day that had started beautifully. When he’d arrived, her exuberance was bursting. As he leaves, her despair and terror stab through him. The door closes behind him and the sound is deafening. 

As soon as the car starts, Jenny opens the door. He waits as she walks out of her house in bare feet. Her eyes are rimmed with red from crying and it makes the green of her eyes brighter and more piercing. He rolls down his window. 

She hands him his license and the empty picture where Kayla should be. “Are we okay?” she asks. 

“That’s up to you.” 

“I don’t know how I’m feeling,”  _ desperate, sad, scared, lonely, betrayed,  _ “but we have to be okay. I don’t know what I would do if we weren’t.” 

“Then, we’re okay.” He glances down at the blank square where his picture should be as he puts the license away. “I’ll be back in ten with Kayla.”

“Drive safe.” She steps away from the car and pulls her sweater closer around herself. 

“Put some socks on,” he calls back to try to bring some normalcy back before he leaves. There’s a flash of a smile, but the glimmer of happiness isn’t strong enough to push through the rest of her heartache. 


	26. Chapter 26

Water laps at the wood of the pier. It’s so clear, the reflection of the trees and sky is almost a mirror. It seems vast and endless. The space is secluded and quiet. Dean takes a deep breath in, savoring the relaxing feeling of just standing at the edge of the pier. 

His morning had started too early for his taste, but it had quickly improved. Morning sex, no matter how early, is always fantastic, but birthday sex too? He should have expected something for his birthday. Especially knowing Cameron. But it’s not something he pays attention to himself. He’d been served bacon and waffles in bed with copious amounts of kisses and coffee. Then they’d washed up, gotten dressed, and headed out. Now they’re at the end of a pier in the still early morning together. He hadn’t expected anything, but he feels like he’s been given everything. 

“What are we doing out here?” Dean asks, his fingers tangling with Cameron’s at his side as they look out over the lake. 

“The beach is too far for a day trip and we have tickets for Disneyland for this Summer. I like this place a lot. I used to come here to think sometimes. Breathe.” Cameron takes a deep breath and Dean follows suit. It smells fresh, the icy air chilling him. 

“Is this where you used to fish?” Dean asks. It’s one of the things he learned early on about Cameron. He used to do catch and release fishing to settle his mind. He has to take breaks from being around people. Standing here in the serene silence save for the water lapping at the shore, Dean can see why this is where he chose to do that. 

“Yeah. You said you wanted me to teach you.” He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s second guessing himself now. Dean runs his thumb over his and looks out at the water again. 

“Thanks for this,” he says softly. Cameron pulls Dean to him and hugs him tightly before their lips find each other. Cameron’s hand cups Dean’s face, the warmth thawing Dean’s cheek. It breaks when Dean grins, then they’re just standing at the edge of a pier in a tight embrace, their noses together as they smile like two idiots in love. 

It’s when they’re sitting under a shared blanket, two fishing lines bobbing in the water that Dean finally thinks of something he wants to do for his birthday. He nudges Cam with his shoulder even though they’re already pressed together. 

“After pie can we go to the park?” Dean asks. 

“Sure, but what’s at the park?” 

“A fountain.”

When Cameron nods, they fall quiet again and Dean leans into him. It feels good to sit here with him. Part of him wants to ask what Cameron is thinking about, but a larger part just wants to relax into the moment. His life is loud. It’s filled with gunshots and shouting. His heart is always racing even though he has to remain outwardly calm. The drumming of his own running feet is constant. He drowns out his own thoughts with the tv or loud music. He gives into the roar of the engine to numb thoughts and pain. 

Dean takes a steadying breath and looks out at the water. He doesn’t care if he catches anything. He doesn’t care if half of his day is just sitting on the edge of a dock with Cameron. It feels like all he needs. 

“I love you too,” Cameron says softly without looking over at him. Dean smiles. He knows. 

They catch a few and Cameron helps him reel them in and let them go safely. His hands are always gentle and Dean watches as the fish swim away again, disappearing quickly under the surface. When they’re ready, they pack up the fishing things and get back in the car to go to some bakery that supposedly has the best pies. 

“I wish we didn’t have to hide,” Dean says as he heads back to Cameron’s house with the smell of fresh blueberry pie filling the car. There’s a French apple pie too because they couldn’t decide on one, but Cameron keeps opening the lid on the blueberry box. 

“What do you mean?” Cameron closes the lid again and looks over at him. 

“When we’re standing in line to get pie, we can’t hold hands.” The couple ahead of them had been holding hands while Dean had kept his shoved in his pockets. They had kissed and Dean had looked away, forcing himself to be far more interested in the pie case than he actually was. 

“I’m sorry,” Cameron says, looking down. Dean glances over at him. 

“I don’t blame you.” He sighs. He never really needed anyone other than his dad to teach him a lesson on what would happen if he was seen with another man. He was always careful. He never needed or wanted to be seen. But Cameron makes him want more than he’s ever allowed himself to. “I just want to hold your hand.” 

Cameron puts his hand out and Dean takes his right hand from the wheel so their fingers can lace together. 

He hides who he is all the time. Hunters don’t have the privilege of being themselves most of the time. They are what the job demands. Even with Cameron opening Dean’s eyes to a world where he can be himself, there are still limits. But maybe someday they can. Maybe one day down the line he can walk down the street with Cameron’s hand in his. Maybe someday they can kiss casually while they wait in line. Maybe one day gay marriage will be legal and he won’t have to hide any part of his life. But right now, they can hold hands in the car. They can kiss at home. They can love each other always, but only openly behind closed doors. 

Not that they’re getting married. Dean accidentally slams on the breaks coming up to a red light. “Sorry,” he mumbles, returning his hand to Cameron’s after having grabbed the wheel when he’d stopped abruptly. His heart is slamming in his chest and his cheeks burn. He’s Dean Winchester. He’s worse than a disposable napkin. He doesn’t think about marriage or anything “down the line.” There is no “down the line.” His eyes drift to Cameron. Maybe there’s a down the line. 

As soon as they get home, Cameron orders Dean to sit down on the couch as he takes the pies hostage. Dean protests as he goes, not really sure why he can’t just have his pie now. But then the lights get turned out and Cameron sings. 

Dean turns around and sees Cameron holding a pie with a single candle in the center of it. It’s cheesy and ridiculous. Dean should put an end to it. But he’s smiling instead of cringing. 

“Happy birthday, Mr. President,” Cameron sings and Dean snorts a laugh. “Happy birthday to you.”

Dean’s eyes don’t waver from Cameron’s as he leans forward to blow out the candle and make his wish. His single wish that’s perfectly clear. Smoke curls up as Cameron lowers the pie to lean over it and kiss Dean. 

“What’d you wish for?” he asks as he settles beside him and hands him one of two forks. 

“Pie,” Dean lies, pulling the candle out and licking the bottom of it before digging in. It’s perfectly sweet with the right amount of flake to the crust. Dean groans. “Yes. Omigawd.” 

“Gross. Swallow!” Cameron laughs. Dean winks which makes Cameron blush, looking away as he laughs harder. “Shut up.”

“For you?” Dean grins and Cameron looks back at him. “Never.” 

The pie gets dropped, the forks following shortly as Cameron’s lips collide with Dean’s. Their bodies press together, limbs tangling, reaching and pulling for any part of the other they can reach. Dean bites into Cameron’s lip and pulls when their hips grind together. Sure, pie is good, but Cameron is better. 

Their shirts land somewhere over the back of the couch. Cameron’s skin is on fire and his heart races under Dean’s hand. When his mouth moves to Dean’s neck, Dean lets out a whimper and tugs at Cameron’s pants. Cameron is about to drop them to the side but Dean stops him. “Pie!” 

“Right.” He tosses them the other way while Dean reaches down for a forkful of pie. “Seriously?” Cameron laughs. Dean scoops a second bite and feeds it to him. “Mm.”

“Mhm,” Dean agrees. In lieu of kissing more, Cameron nuzzles into his neck while he finishes eating before he bites Dean gently. Dean wiggles out of his pants with help from Cameron’s hands pulling them off. They fly somewhere else. Their clothes are scattered and their lips find each other’s again. 

Dean reaches between them and strokes up Cameron’s shaft. He’s hard and hot and he feels perfect in Dean’s hand. Cameron gasps softly and gets off of Dean to go get the lube. Dean grabs another bite of pie and looks toward the hallway. He sits up a little and lets his hand sink down to his dick. 

Cam comes back out of the bedroom and stops when he sees Dean’s hand pumping. His mouth quirks into a crooked smile and he watches for a moment before walking over. He leaves the lube on the floor before kneeling beside the couch and replacing Dean’s hand with his mouth. Dean sucks in a breath and runs his fingers through Cam’s hair as his head bobs. 

Dean’s eyes close tight as his head falls back, a moan caught somewhere between his chest and throat. Cameron’s tongue swirls before he sucks. 

“I want you,” Dean groans pleadingly. 

Cameron keeps his mouth around him but adds lube to his fingers before pushing them into Dean.  _ Oh, God. _ Dean squirms, biting his lip. Cameron’s mouth is too good, the wet heat already divine without the added fingers in his ass. He writhes under his touch and revels in the feeling of Cameron swallowing around him when his ecstasy rolls through him. 

“Cam,” Dean gasps. 

He swallows one last time and lifts his head. Dean’s fingers fall from his hair and trail down the side of his face before landing on the couch. “Do you want more?” 

“When do I  _ not _ want more?” Dean asks a little breathlessly. “Yes.”

Cameron grins and takes his fingers from Dean before grabbing a little more lube. Dean lifts his legs to hug Cameron’s waist as he pushes in. The immediate pace is set quickly, the rhythm fast and hard. Their mouths collide again even though Cameron still tastes of Dean. It doesn’t matter. His kisses are addicting. 

Dean’s fingers dig into Cam’s back. In response or retaliation, he bites Dean’s lip before sucking his tongue into his mouth. The couch creaks beneath them, the springs adding their own groans to Dean and Cameron’s pants and grunts. 

“Dean,” Cameron moans, thrusting harder. 

Dean glances to the side and shoves the pie out of the way before rolling, shoving Cameron to the ground and straddling him. He rides him, burying him deeper and slamming his ass down harder as his hips are held by strong hands. 

He rarely likes to be on top, but there’s occasions when it’s spectacular. He’s spent, but it still feels too good for words. It’s still good enough to pull whimpers and moans from Dean as he rolls his hips and rides Cameron. 

Cameron’s eyes lock with Dean’s. His eyebrows are upturned and there’s a slight sheen of sweat. He’s gorgeous, his lips parted for his heavy breaths. Dean leans down to kiss his bottom lip. With the new angle, Cameron thrusts up from below. Dean grunts and bows his head into Cameron’s shoulder. 

He comes, filling Dean with stuttering hips. Dean kisses wherever he can reach until he’s finished. Then he lifts his face and grins. “I love you.” It’s sappy. A little cheese-fest maybe to say it right after, but he means it. But he means it all the time. 

“I love you too,” Cameron smiles. 

Dean gets off of him so he can get up to wash up as he grabs his pie again. Cameron rolls his eyes and shakes his head with an amused smile as he leaves the room. “What?” Dean calls after him. 

“Nothing. I’ll be right back, pie fiend” he laughs. 

“Damn straight,” Dean says to himself as he takes another bite. He glances around and realizes he doesn’t have a drink. He gets up and goes to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. As soon as he opens the fridge, there’s a knock at the front door. “Uh… Cam?”

“Was that our house?” Cameron calls back. 

“Unless the front door is for someone else's house.” Cameron walks down the hall and grabs his boxers and pants off the floor. “Want one?” Dean asks, holding up a beer. 

“Uh… Yes. Thanks.” He grabs his shirt and pulls it on even though it’s inside out and opens the front door just a little. “Julio!”

“Am I interrupting something?” 

Cameron glances over his shoulder at the living room that still has Dean’s clothes spread across it and the lube that’s still on the floor next to the couch. “What’s up?”

“Kayla’s present? Remember?” Julio sounds hesitant. “I was supposed to drop it off today.” 

“Oh! Right. Sorry, I forgot.” He shakes his head a little. 

“I have it with me now. I can bring it in.” 

Cameron looks over his shoulder at Dean. There are few options. He can hide in the kitchen and wait for Julio to leave, get dressed quickly from what’s on the floor, go to his room and get dressed there and emerge presentable, or none of the above. Dean points to his clothes. 

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Cameron says. He closes the door and gives Dean one of those guilty smiles that’s half comical grimace. “Clothes.” 

“Clothes,” Dean agrees. He takes the pieces Cameron hands him and quickly pulls them on. “How did you forget you invited Julio over?”

“We made this plan months ago. Like. Last Summer months ago. He made Kayla a reading nook chair thing and was going to deliver it today. I forgot.” 

“Your shirt is inside out,” Dean points out. Cameron glances down and his cheeks turn red before he pulls it off and flips it. Once they’re both dressed, he heads outside to help Julio. Dean walks into the kitchen to go grab his beer and stay out of the way. He hadn’t bothered fixing Cameron’s or his own hair. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but he knows Cameron’s hands had raked through it enough to make it obvious what they’d been doing. Cameron’s hair is a wild mess, but he’d answered the door like that so there was no point in fixing it now. Besides, what’s the point in fixing it if there’s a chance at a makeout session or round three later? 

“I just figured since you hadn’t called to cancel today, that it was still okay to drop by,” Dean hears Julio say when the front door opens again. 

“It’s still fine. Plans just got away from me. Kayla getting sick and Dean’s birthday.” They take a break from talking as they maneuver the big green chair. It looks fancy and well-made even when it’s tipped on its side without the plush pillows to go with it yet. 

“When was that?”

“Today.” 

There’s a pause. Julio isn’t as comfortable with Dean as everyone else has been. Derek, Sarah, and Grace had been overjoyed that Cameron was dating. It didn’t seem to matter or phase them at all that it was Dean and not some 20-something chick. But Julio had been excited when he’d found out that Cameron was dating  _ someone _ . He’d held the party. He’d shouted excitedly when they had knocked on his door. But then his jaw had dropped and he’d stayed mostly silent for the rest of the night. 

“Shouldn’t he be spending it with his family?” It’s a bit of a stab. He doesn’t celebrate his birthday with his family. He hasn’t for a very long time. He’d like Sam to be here maybe. He could call him later but there won’t be any happy birthday’s or gifts. Besides, Cameron is the only family Dean would think about spending his birthday with. Otherwise it would pass without so much as a glance at the calendar. 

“He is,” Cameron says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Dean looks up and finds his eyes. Two words and he’s claimed Dean as his family, and not just privately between them in between the sheets. 

“Hi,” Dean says.

Julio drops his side of the chair with a loud thud. Dean flinches and it falls from Cameron’s grip. “Sorry. Sorry,” Julio says. He hadn’t seen Dean. 

“You okay?” Neither make a move to pick the chair up again. 

Julio looks from Dean’s probably still flushed cheeks and sex hair to Cameron’s matching look that had included an inside out shirt only a few minutes ago. And then his eyes land on something on the floor. Dean watches Cameron’s face turn to follow Julio’s barely averted gaze to the couch. The lube. Neither of them cleaned up the lube. Dean lets out a laugh as he puts down his beer and goes to retrieve it so it can go back to Cameron’s nightstand. 

“Uh. Yeah…” Cameron clears his throat as Dean picks it up. 

“Sorry. Didn’t get a chance to put it away before you knocked,” Dean says as he starts leaving the room. Cameron laughs a little. 

Dean hears Julio sigh. It sounds like they’re going back to lifting the chair. Dean drops the lube into Cameron’s drawer and sits on the edge of the bed to keep the hallway clear for them. “I’m fine with the whole… whatever this is. I am. But… I don’t want to see it. I don’t need to know what you were just doing or about lube so he can stick his dick in your ass.” 

“Whoa!” Cameron says. 

“Uhm.  _ His _ dick goes in  _ my _ ass,” Dean corrects, poking his head out into the hallway. Cameron shoots him a look. Julio turns around and looks mortified. “Not that it matters.”

“ _ Dean _ ,” Cameron pleads as they start to pick up the chair.

“Sorry. Leaving.” Dean shuts the door before he flops on his back to stare at the ceiling and eavesdrop. The conversation is too muffled through the door with their lowered voices. He could get up and listen at the door, but their tones suggest it isn’t a conversation he wants to hear anyway. 

The pager goes off. Dean furrows his brow and reaches into his pocket. It’s scrambled like someone wasn’t looking when they typed the message. Dean sits up and waits for a second one, his blood rushing loudly in his ears. It’s all he can hear as he counts the seconds. Nothing. He types back, hoping they’re not out hunting and in trouble. He doesn’t even know where they are right now. Last he’d heard, his dad was only picking up hunts that were close to where Sam had school. It was a nice change, but maybe he got bored or distracted and was in trouble somewhere farther? What if Sam’s in trouble? 

The next page comes in and tells Dean that he’s calling. 

The phone rings. “Fuck!” Dean yells and leaps off the bed, throwing the door open. “Don’t answer!” he yells when he sees Cameron poke his head out of Kayla’s room. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Shh!” He grabs the phone. “Sammy?” 

“Tell him I’m not going anywhere!” Sam yells into the phone. John’s voice is raised and Sam shouts something away from the phone at him. 

“What’s going on?” Dean demands. 

“What—?” Julio starts but Cameron cuts him off to tell him to be quiet. Dean can’t turn around to look at him right now. 

Sam is still yelling at their dad. He’s still too busy fighting with John to hear or answer Dean. 

“Tell Dad I’ll be there in two hours. Don’t fucking move,” Dean orders him. “Do you hear me?” 

“Dean said he’s coming,” Sam says sharply. 

“Room number.”

“106.”

“Be there soon.” Dean hangs up and turns to Cameron finally. “Raincheck on the fountain. They’re fighting and I need to go.” 

“Take the car.” Cameron steps around Julio to go to his room. He comes back out with a coat and some socks. 

“I can take a cab,” Dean argues as he pulls on the socks. 

“You’re faster driving and you’ll be back by tomorrow anyway, right?” His eyes are searching Dean’s. 

“Yes.” 

“Go.” He kisses him and Dean wraps his arms around him to pull him closer and force the kiss to last just a little longer. “I love you,” Cameron murmurs against his lips. 

“I love you too.” He takes the coat from Cam and grabs the keys as he heads for the door. 


	27. Chapter 27

The air in the room seems to crackle with anger. Sam can’t remember a time where he and his dad didn’t butt heads. Some times are worse than others, but the older Sam gets, the more they seem to fight. It’s always something. Food, school, hunting, sports, college, even what tv shows they like. Tonight, his dad had decided that they’d spent too long in one place. They had to move. They had to follow a hunt. They had to get Sam out of a school where he was getting into fights. 

Sam holds the frozen bag of peas over his eye. The fight at school yesterday was the usual shit. He had been standing up for some kid who was about to get his teeth kicked in by some asshole bully. Sam had walked away with a black eye. James had lost but they were both suspended for two days. 

“Stop packing,” Sam says through his teeth when John tosses another thing into his bag. 

“We’re leaving whether you like it or not,” his dad answers shortly. “We can wait for Dean to show his face for the first time in a month, but then we’re out of here.” 

“Just drop me off at Bobby’s and fucking leave.” It’s a low blow. He doesn’t remember the fight that happened between his dad and Bobby, but Dean does. Apparently it was bad. It had to have been. They don’t talk anymore. They haven’t seen Bobby in years when he was a pretty steady babysitter for a while. 

“He’s not your father. I am.” Oh, he’s mad again. Sam pushed a button. He smirks. 

“Better father than you’ve ever been.” 

“Watch your mouth,” John says, eyes dark as he glares. His jaw is set and he looks about ready to snap and storm out. 

There’s a knock and Sam throws his frozen peas to the side as he jumps up to answer. He throws the door open. He hasn’t seen Dean since early December. He’s surprised it’s been so long. No one has told him what’s been going on. Things have been weird and tense since November, but every November is like that. He hadn’t expected it to take Dean away for so long. 

Dean’s hair is a little grown out and it’s messy as hell which is new. His eyes search Sam’s face and as he does, his expression darkens. 

“Dean—” 

“What the fuck?” Dean steps around Sam and blocks him from their dad like a shield. “How dare you do this bullshit! Wait outside.” The last part is for Sam. Dean doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder at him, all of his attention on their dad. He shouldn’t have called Dean. They’ve been fighting and he made it worse. “I said wait outside!” 

Sam retreats and Dean slams the door behind him. It’s freezing and he can’t make out what they’re saying through the door because they’ve lowered their voices. He’s always pushed out of the room and their lives when they fight. It’s not like he wants to witness it, but he has nowhere else to go. 

He scuffs his shoe on the ground before he turns and starts walking. He’ll come back and hopefully it’ll be all over. Dean will have fixed everything. Sam will get to stay and at least make it to Spring Break before he has to move again. He shoves his hands in his pockets and hopes no one from school sees him. 

He doesn’t know where to go. The library is open but he couldn’t focus on studying right now if he tried and the keys to the Impala are in his dad’s pocket. Sam glances back at the motel room door and wonders who will win. If this goes badly, will he lose Dean forever? It’s not like when they were younger. Dean always came back after a little while. But he’s nineteen now. He doesn’t have to follow Dad’s orders. 

There’s a corner store with a bored guy at the counter. Sam steps inside and the guy nods to him like he can’t be bothered with a greeting. He grabs two sodas and a newspaper. January 24, 1998. Shit. It’s Dean’s birthday. He looks around for something he can get away with giving to Dean without him knowing it’s a present. 

Dean hates his birthday. There was a time when they used to celebrate it with cake or pie. He doesn’t know what happened. He just knows that it stopped a few years ago. 

Franz pie. The small little pocket of a pie will have to be good enough. If he shows up with a whole pie, Dean will brush it off the way he had the year before. There’s only chocolate left, but it’ll have to do. He grabs two and brings everything to the counter. 

The guys sighs and rings everything up. “That all?” 

“Yeah.” Sam hands him the money and scoops everything back up. He heads back to the motel and climbs onto the hood of the Impala before opening his soda and starting on the newspaper. He was right. He can’t focus. The words all blur together and his eyes keep drifting up to the door. He has no idea how long he’s supposed to wait. 

He shouldn’t have dragged Dean into this. He just didn’t want to have to leave and start over at another school. Again. But that’s selfish. His dad had made sure to drill into him just how selfish it was. They’re hunters. They go where the hunt takes them and who needs them. 

When the door finally opens, his dad has a bag over his shoulder. Sam’s stomach turns. He doesn’t want to go. He slides off the car and gets ready to start fighting again. If Dean can’t win this, then Sam will go down swinging. 

“Get in here,” Dean says. Sam swivels to see his brother standing in the doorway. 

“I’ll be back in a week,” John says. “No more fights.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam says, standing a little straighter. 

“And don’t sit on the car like that. You’ll scratch the paint or dent the hood.” He checks the spot that Sam had been on before he tosses his bag in the car. 

“How long do I get to stay?” Sam asks even though it’s pushing it. 

His dad looks up at him and sighs. “I don’t know and I’m not making any promises. If I have to go more than three hours out, you’re coming with me. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam nods, deflating a little. One battle won, but the war still rages. He hates how much he’s left alone. He wants a real family. But now Dean is off on his own and his dad is still hunting as often as he can to replace any kind of real responsibility while Sam is left alone to try to write essays about Romeo and Juliet or the French Revolution. 

Sam goes back to the room and hands Dean the soda and pie without a word. Dean glances at it but doesn’t say anything as he sits on their dad’s recently abandoned bed. 

“You’re getting in fights at school again?” Dean asks. He has his dad voice on. 

“I had to,” is all Sam says. Dean gives him that look. The  _ I’m not mad, I’m disappointed and concerned  _ look. “James was going to punch that kid’s lights out. Isn’t it our job to save people?” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs like he’s exhausted. He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you in any more fights though. I get that teachers are as useless as a white crayon, but let someone else handle it. A suspension isn’t going to come with an explanation on your transcript to Harvard.” 

“We both know I’m never going to college. Not if Dad has anything to say about it,” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“What’s at this school that’s so important?” Dean asks, sitting back and pulling open the wrapper on his stealth birthday pie. 

“I just want to stay in one place.” It’s mostly the truth. He knows that as long as he’s here, Dean is two hours away wherever he’s been hiding. He’s in the advanced classes. He’s starting to make friends. And he might even take Dean’s advice about asking someone to the school dance. There’s a girl in his math class. Ashley. But it also just feels good to have been at one school for longer than a month. 

“If there was a magical place that existed where you could stay there for as long as you wanted, get a good education, live in a nice house, live the picket fence and apple pie life, would you?” Dean asks. The way he says magical makes it all sound a little sarcastic and a little too real at the same time. 

“I’d ask what’s the catch?” Sam opens his pie too and picks at it. He hates these. He only bought two so Dean wouldn’t think anything of it. But the mass-produced taste isn’t something Sam is a fan of. 

“The catch,” Dean says slowly. It feels like Dean is avoiding looking at him but maybe he’s imagining it. Dean takes a bite of his pie and looks at the ceiling while he chews. “You would never see Dad ever again.” He looks too serious to be joking. 

If it were a joke or hypothetical, Sam would answer that he’d go in a heartbeat. But something about all of this feels… real. Sam and his dad may butt heads. They may bring out the worst in each other while they refuse to see eye to eye, but he’s still his dad. In his best case scenario, he gets out of hunting but he gets to see his dad and Dean on holidays. He’ll go off to college. Dean’ll go off and find out that he’s more than a toy soldier. Their dad will find the demon and he’ll be able to rest. But they’ll all still get together to fight at Thanksgiving and get drunk on Christmas. Maybe it’s childish, but he still wants his dad to like him even if he doesn’t seem to be even half-interested in what Sam’s interests and goals are. 

“No…” Sam says slowly. “Would you?” He’s not sure he wants to know the answer. His heart pounds as he watches Dean. 

“Maybe.” There’s a flash of a smile that looks sad. “I don’t know.” He looks up and finds Sam looking at him. “Fuck if I know.” 

“You’re allowed to say yes.”  _ Please don’t say yes. _

“Yes, then.” He drops his eyes to the pie and Sam feels his stomach drop through the floor. “It’s hypothetical anyway. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Right.” Sam nods and looks down at his pie. “Are you leaving?”

“I just got here.” He crosses his stretched out legs as if to make a point. “What’s your book about?” He nods toward the book on the nightstand as he takes another bite of pie.

“Harvey Carignan.”

“Who?”

“The Want-Ad Killer? Famous serial killer?” Sam prompts. How does Dean not know this? 

“You need better idols, man,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Like me. I have Elliot Ness and Batman.”

“First of all, Batman isn’t real,” Sam says slowly for emphasis. 

Dean fakes a shocked gasp. “How dare you.” 

“Second… Ness wasn’t some hero. You should  _ read _ about him instead of watching The Untouchables for the hundredth time.” Dean’s about to protest but Sam keeps going, knowing that arguing about Elliot Ness is a lost afternoon. “Third, I don’t idolize the killers. I just like learning about them.” 

“You like to spend your days reading about serial killers and memorizing creepy facts. You’re a little bit of a freak, you know that?” 

“Whatever.” 

“You going to actually eat that or just finger it like it’s your girlfriend?” Dean asks. Sam scrunches up his face and hands Dean the pie. 

Sam gets up and heads to the bathroom. As soon as the door closes, he hears Dean pick up the phone. Sam stands at the door and waits with his face pressed to the door. 

“Hey, it’s me,” he hears Dean say. “Sam’s fine… I’m fine too. It’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Part of Sam wants to go out there and take the phone to see if he can find out who Dean’s calling. Another part tells him to stay still and listen. The smallest part tells him it’s private and that he shouldn’t be listening at all. He ignores the smallest part. “I’ll probably stay a few hours and head back tonight.” It’s the way Dean laughs like Sam’s never heard him. It’s the secret phone calls. And the time Dean had hung up on him. Something’s going on. “How’d it go with Julio?” 

Who the hell is Julio? Sam really does have to pee but he is not going to miss this chance. It might be the only one he gets to try to work out what the hell is going on with Dean. 

“I’m sorry. We can talk about it tomorrow… Any point in trying to salvage it?” There’s a pause and Sam presses against the door. “I have to go soon. He’s not going to pee forever… No, I don’t think so… You too. I’ll be home by midnight.”

_ Home _ ? Dean has a  _ home _ ? Why does that hurt so much? Probably because it’s something new. It’s a single word that tells Sam all he needs to. Dean’s leaving. They’ve always been a pod of three even when their dad disappeared, Dean went missing for a few weeks at a time, or that time that Sam ran away. It’s always been the three of them against the world. Winchester and sons. But Dean has somewhere else. Somewhere called  _ home _ where he has a steady phone number and someone to check-in with when he’s away. 

Dean hangs up and Sam steps away from the door. This was bound to happen eventually. He’d just hoped it could have waited until he could go his own way too. 

“Do you have scissors?” Dean asks as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s combing his hair and inspecting his appearance as he does. 

“Is this the first time you’ve seen a mirror in the past month?” Sam asks, laughing as he grabs the scissors he uses for school. Dean’s hair is usually kept short except for the front where he’s had his frosted tips. But it’s grown out and he trims them. 

“Yeah,” he says, still focusing on his hair. He has to be joking or not paying attention. “Clippers?” 

“Yeah.” They’re Dean’s, but he’d left them here when he left in November. He hands them to him and Dean plugs them into the outlet before finishing on the front. 

Sam sits on the edge of his bed and watches Dean fuss over his hair. He’s always needed it to be styled just right with the right amount of gel or wax or whatever mix of products he’s found that works. He also gives Sam hell for the way Sam’s hair looks. It’s too shaggy and needs a trim is the go-to. Sam’s hair isn’t that long, but he doesn’t like when it’s short. Anyway, if Dean knew anything about style, he’d know that this floppy hair look is in right now. 

“What do you wanna do today?” Dean asks. Sam doesn’t answer. He wants to turn the question around on his brother since it’s his birthday, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Or are we brooding and hiding away to match the new look?” He gestures to Sam’s eye. 

“We can do something,” Sam says quickly. He doesn’t want to stay locked up in the room, but especially not if it’ll bring on jokes about his shiner. “There’s not much to do here though.” 

“We have a car,” Dean says. Sam furrows his eyebrows. Their dad  _ just _ left with the car. 

“No we don’t,” Sam says. Dean screws up his face, about to argue. Sam watches his eyes dip and the color drip out of his cheeks as he swallows. “Dean?”

“We have a car,” Dean says again. 

“Did you steal one?” He’s seen Dean hotwire cars before. It’s not hard for Dean to do. 

“Uh, yeah.” He finishes his hair and checks to make sure it’s even. He’s lying. The car came from  _ home _ . “Did you want to go somewhere? We could just go for a drive.”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’ll shower this off and we can go.” He shuts the door and Sam pulls out a map to see if he can pick out anywhere that they can drive to. 

The shower turns on and Sam stares at the point where he knows the motel is at. Dean starts humming. Sam glances at the phone. As soon as Dean starts singing, Sam dives for the phone and dials the number that he’s been calling Dean at. 

“ _ Take those old records off the shelf!” _ Dean sings over the sound of the shower as the phone rings. Sam holds his breath. 

“Dr. Cameron Smith,” a guy answers in a kind and deep voice. Sam slams the phone down, his heart racing. He has no idea what to do. He feels like he just ran a mile. He probably has guilt written all over his face.

What does this mean? Who is Dr. Cameron Smith? Why does Dean have a car that isn’t Baby? Why does he have a home? 

Sam knows that Dean likes both men and women. He’s known for a while despite Dean never telling him. There were rumors in some of the towns they’d stayed in over the years. They’d bounce from Dean hooking up with cheerleaders to football players. He’s not stupid enough to think they’re just roommates. But who is he and why does Sam feel like he’s crossed a line by hearing his voice? Why does he feel like he’ll never see Dean again? 

Sam chews on his lip as he stares at the phone. He could call back. But what would he say? 

The shower turns off and Sam moves back to where he had been and focuses on the map. It only takes a few minutes for Dean to reemerge from the bathroom ready to go. Sam follows him out of the room and wonders why Dean seems taller. Sam’s the one who’s been growing, but Dean’s the one who stands taller. Maybe it’s because he’s out of their dad’s shadow. 

They walk down the block and around a corner before Dean stops at a car. It’s a sleek black Impala, just a newer year. Sam inspects it as Dean grabs the keys from his pocket and unlocks it. 

“Cheating on Baby?” Sam asks as he gets in. 

“It’s hardly cheating, but don’t tell her. She’ll never know. Besides, Dad’ll never let me have that car no matter how much I love her.” He starts driving with no destination in mind. Sam doesn’t say anything, happy to be along for the ride. 

“You been under the hood?” 

“Once.”

“Ooo…” Sam raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue. 

“Shut up,” Dean grins. And just like that, it feels almost normal. 

“Thanks,” Sam says as Dean searches for a radio station that doesn’t suck. He glances over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “For coming down here. Talking to Dad.” 

“You know that’s my job, right?” He looks between Sam and the road. “I don’t care what’s going on. I’ll drop it and come find you. You know that, right?” 

He didn’t. He should, but with everything that’s going on, he’s not sure. But it is Dean who would come pick him up at school when he got sick or hurt. It’s always Dean who puts an end to the fights Sam and their dad get into. It’s Dean who patches him up after hunts. He even takes over the grave digging when it’s a school night and Sam gets too tired. “Yeah.”

“And what’s my number one rule?” 

“Driver picks the music?” Sam guesses, not sure where he’s going with this. 

“No chick flick moments.” 

“Right. Jerk,” Sam smiles. 

“Bitch.” Dean cranks the music and starts singing along. 

The beach in January is a desolate place. The waves are lonely. Or maybe they’re glad to stretch without the onslaught of people taking up their space. It’s a little telling that Sam can’t decide if it’s a sad scene or not. The sand looks cold and soft but they don’t venture to walk through it. They climb onto the hood of the car and stretch out their long legs as Sam starts digging into the takeout bag to distribute their dinner. 

“You’re taller,” Dean says accusingly as he glares at Sam’s legs. “Cut it out or you’re going to pass me up.” 

“That’s the plan,” Sam says, handing him a burger. He takes a deep breath of the sea air. It’s calming, the salt heavy with the smell of seaweed. 

“I haven’t had a burger in forever,” Dean says before taking a giant bite. 

“Please don’t tell me that without Dad and I there to stop you, you’re just eating pie,” Sam says, starting in on his fries. 

“No. Just mostly pasta. And pizza. Taco Tuesdays. I don’t think I’ve had a burger since December,” Dean says thoughtfully. “I  _ have _ had a ton of pie today though.” 

“Not just the chocolate pie?”

“I had a blueberry pie for lunch.”  
  
Sam groans. “ _Dean_! That isn’t lunch!” Dean only laughs and looks out over the waves. “How are you alive?”

“That’s a good question.” He nods and looks back at Sam. “Remember that time we set off roman candles in the park?” 

Sam nods. Fourth of July. Dad was off doing something else. He’d even left Dean with Baby. Dean got a bunch of illegal fireworks and dragged Sam to the park. It was just the two of them, side by side, setting off fireworks and gazing up at the light show in the sky. “Remember that time you broke my arm?”

“Ugh, Sammy.” Dean rolls his eyes so hard his head tips back. “You’re the one who jumped off the roof. I didn’t push you and I didn’t break your arm for you. You did all that by yourself.” 

“I know, but it sounds funnier the way I say it.” Sam opens his burger finally. Dean tosses his wrapper in the empty bag and brings his knees up to rest his elbows on. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I want to, kid.” He laughs humorlessly and rubs a hand over the back of his freshly cut hair. “Believe me.” He does. He hadn’t believed him over the phone or maybe he just didn’t want to. But Dean looks a little pained to be sitting right here and still not being able to tell Sam the truth. 

“Are you getting out?” 

Dean stops and looks at him, his thoughts moving quickly in his eyes. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Not a lot of jobs for someone without a high school diploma,” Sam says. Oops. 

Dean looks away. It’s not like Dean ever really tried in school. He had at one point, maybe, but never in high school. Sam had been there for every time their dad had made Dean stop doing his homework to work on a hunt or learn to shoot. He was there every time Dean had ignored his homework in favor of putting dinner on the table for Sam and hustling or pickpocketing for money while their dad was gone. He was there every time Dean had worked himself to the bone and fallen asleep with his homework still open on the table, barely touched. Their dad had made it clear that Dean’s school wasn’t important. Hunting was. Hunting is always the priority. So Dean had dropped out. Their dad hadn’t even blinked when Dean said he’d dropped out. He only starts fights when Sam wants to pursue his education. 

“You could always get a GED,” Sam ventures. He doesn’t know if Dean even wants one. 

“We’re not having this conversation,” Dean says, eyes still set on the ocean. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, squinting up at the sky for a moment. The sun is setting. Sam checks his watch. It’s almost six. “Who’re you takin’ to the dance?”

“What dance?” 

“What dance.” Dean shakes his head incredulously. “You complained so much about Valentine’s Day and now you don’t even know what dance I’m talking about?”

“Oh,  _ that _ dance…” Dean rolls his eyes but he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t asked anyone yet.” He doesn’t know if Ashley would say yes. Especially now that he’s been suspended and got a black eye in front of the entire school. 

“Want me to come down to get you ready for the dance? Get you a flower thingy to put on her wrist of whatever? Do the whole nine?” He can’t tell if Dean is joking or not. Sam squints at him. “If you get a date to the dance, I’ll make sure you’re in town for it and that you don’t look like a total dweeb.” 

“I’m not a dweeb.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean laughs. 

“The dance is on the 13th anyway…” He wants to curl into a ball but he stays still. 

“Yeah?” 

“So… If Ashley says yes, you’ll help me?” He’s never wanted Dean’s help on anything. Maybe he’ll change his mind and snap out of whatever this moment is. This moment of getting along. 

“Oo!  _ Ashley _ .” He waggles his eyebrows and Sam shoves him. Dean laughs and shoves him back. 

Dean’s driving back. The darkness outside makes it feel later than it is. Sam looks out at the stars and tries to think of ways to make Dean stay but he can’t. He’s never seen Dean happy like this. He’s never heard him laugh on the phone. 

“You could come with me,” Dean says out of nowhere. Sam looks over his shoulder at him. 

“What about Dad?” It might be a trick of the light but it looks like Dean flinches. “You could stay.”

“I’m not staying,” Dean says with a little more force than Sam had expected. 

“What? You want me to run away with you to some utopia? Somewhere  _ magical _ with a good school and no monsters? Somewhere to rest my head every night without worrying that I’ll have to leave first thing in the morning just because Dad said so?” His nose burns. “What? We’re gonna go live some apple pie life where you’re my dad and everything’s perfect? Maybe we can go to Disneyland! You’re not my dad, Dean.” 

“I know I’m not your dad.” The way he says it sounds a little raw, like it’s cut through to his bones. Sam almost says sorry but he can’t now. 

“You running away isn’t new. I shouldn’t be surprised you’re just going to ditch us now.” 

“I haven’t ditched anyone. I still have the fucking pager and I’m here now, aren’t I?” Dean hits back. “Not like you ever needed me anyway, right? You’re just fine on your own. Besides, you have Sully.”

“I’m not a kid anymore!” He never should have told Dean about his imaginary friend. He’d been lonely. Sully was all he had. Him in his rainbow suspenders and open arms. 

“Then grow up,” Dean bites out. 

How did this even turn into a fight? Sam crosses his arms and looks back out the window. He didn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to now, but how is he supposed to apologize at this point? It’s not like Dean’s going to either. He has a chance to escape his absent father and hunting. He has a chance at whatever Dean’s offering him, but is it worth it? Sam wipes at his face before Dean can notice the tears rolling down his cheeks.

When they roll up to the motel, Dean puts the car in park and sighs. “Sammy—”

“Happy Birthday,” Sam snaps as he shoves the door open. 

“I’ll call you on Monday,” Dean promises. It makes Sam’s heart hurt. He’s going to cry again. He doesn’t want him to go. And he can’t go with Dean. He’s about to yell at him not to bother when Dean adds, “And I’ll be here on the 13th.” 

“Just stay here.”

It looks like it stabs through Dean like a knife. He lets his head drop for a moment as he takes a deep breath. “Either go in and get your shit or stay here, but either way, I’m going back tonight.” 

Going  _ home _ . 

“I’ll talk to you on Monday.” Sam turns and storms into his empty room. He slams the door and falls against it, covering his face as he cries. He listens to the car idle for a few more moments before finally pulling away. He kicks the door and steps away from it. There’s an envelope on his dad’s bed with Sam’s name on it. 

Sam wipes his face with his sleeve and picks it up. It’s Dean’s handwriting. Inside is more money than his dad ever left him. He knows Dean worked hard for it. There’s enough to buy enough food for all of his meals without having to skimp. There’s enough for new books and movie tickets. It’s an envelope of cash, but it’s more than that. 

Sam wants to go outside and say he changed his mind. He wants to go. But Dean’s gone.


	28. Chapter 28

When Dean had made it home, Cameron had practically run to him, pulling him into a tight hug. Dean hadn’t meant to cry. All Cam said as he held him was, “I know.” His kisses mend wounds. His touch soothes pain. His love is all encompassing and healing. When they’d gone to bed, Cameron had curled around him, his arm protectively around Dean’s middle, fingers locked together over Dean’s chest. 

Dean wakes up slowly. He’d dreamed of Sam’s face as he’d yelled at him that he wasn’t coming with him, that Dean wasn’t his dad. He won’t let the words eat him alive, but they certainly took a bite out of him. He’s been both father and mother to that kid and still he looks to John. 

Dean doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that he’s sprawled over Cameron. His head is in his lap, arms wrapped around his thighs, legs tangled with nothing but sheets and the heavy blanket. He can feel his boyfriend’s fingers running through his short hair gently. He can feel his eyes counting his freckles. “Cam…” Dean murmurs. 

“Good morning,” Cameron whispers back. Dean looks up at him out of the corner of his eye before closing his eyes again. Cameron looks content but also like he didn’t sleep. 

“Why didn’t you sleep?” Dean asks, voice muffled by the blankets. 

“You were sad,” Cameron says softly. “Sometimes your dreams soften your feelings. Last night it felt like I was drowning in it.” 

“I’m sorry…” He turns his face to bury it in Cam’s thigh. 

“Shh… Don’t be.” His fingers continue to move through Dean’s shorn hair. “You cut your hair.” 

“Mhm…” He likes it short. He’d let it grow out a little too much. He chopped the front back to a reasonable length and used an 8 on the rest of it. 

“It’s nice,” Cameron says. Dean feels the corners of his lips twitch up but he stays quiet. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Dean’s smile falls as he turns over to look up at Cameron. “So, you and Julio aren’t speaking anymore?” 

“He made it clear that he’s not who I thought he was.” His voice is sad and low. “I told him he can apologize when he gets his head out of his own ass but I’m not holding my breath. Sarah’s furious with him. I told her that it doesn’t affect her too, but everyone is mad that he won’t accept us.”

“He took the chair?” Dean asks. It was what Cameron had said on the phone when Dean had asked yesterday. 

“I made him take the chair.” They’re quiet and still for a moment, Dean’s hand finding Cameron’s and holding it because he doesn’t know what else to do. He brings his hands to his lips and presses a kiss to each of his fingers. 

When Dean lets go of his hand, Cameron plays with the still longish front of Dean’s hair and smiles. His brown eyes shine as Dean smiles back. “You’re beautiful in the morning,” Cameron whispers, letting his fingertips drift down the side of Dean’s face. 

“Are you being a cheeseball?” Dean whispers back halfway between accusing and melting. 

“I’m always a cheeseball. I wasn’t. You made me this way.” 

“Mm.” Dean turns to kiss the pad of Cam’s thumb. 

“I adore you, Dean Winchester,” Cameron says softly and Dean’s heart jumps. Then they’re both quiet, holding onto each other, eyes locked as Dean lets the words sink into him. There’s something different and powerful about being held in the morning, being gently told that he’s adored while he feels their love warming them both, and looking into those shining brown eyes. 

“You know I love you, right?” Dean asks softly. Cameron nods. “Is it too much?”

“No, it’s perfect.” Cameron takes a deep breath like he’s savoring the smell of the air after a fresh rain or the lingering vanilla after baking. “It’s my favorite feeling.” 

“You sound so tired. Should I make coffee?” 

“Yeah,” he says reluctantly, like he never wants to leave this room, this moment. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Dean sits up and kisses him, letting it linger a little before he pulls away and goes out to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother with grabbing his robe. He’ll just grab a blanket to wear as a cape. Walking around the house in Cameron’s sweats feels nice anyway. 

By the time the coffee is ready, Cameron still isn’t out of the bedroom. Dean walks down the hall with two mugs and finds Cameron fast asleep. He’s sunk down into his pillows, mouth open as he lets out a soft snore. 

“Oh,” Dean breathes. He watches for a moment, unable to move in fear of waking him. It’s a precious timesnap that he wants to save forever. Cameron’s even breaths, soft snores, and serene face with rays of sunlight spilling over his skin from the crack in the curtains. 

Dean puts both coffees on his nightstand before climbing back into bed. Cameron automatically moves closer and Dean stays still to make sure he didn’t wake him before he grabs one of the mugs. 

Dean hadn’t expected to ever consider leaving the life. Aside from the mission to kill the bastard that took their mom from them, it’s a little hard to go back to any kind of normalcy with the knowledge that monsters walk among them and there are people to save. Hell, he’s never even known normalcy. Not until he came here anyway. And they’re not all monsters. Some people that his dad would like to kill on sight like to cuddle in the mornings and whisper sweet nothings. Dean would give up hunting for that someone without a second thought now. He’s had more than a taste of what a life he could have. What life he  _ does _ have. 

He looks down at Cameron and the soft curls of hair at his neck. This is the life he chooses. The one where he feels more love than he ever has before. The one where he wakes up on a random morning to adoration and bliss. The one where he smiles and doesn’t feel guilty about it. 

For his birthday, he had wished for this. 

And now he’s going to let himself have it. 

Tuesday night, Derek, Sarah, and Grace had asked Cameron and Dean to come out with them. Dean sits between Sarah and Cameron, sipping his beer and holding his boyfriend’s hand under the table. 

“So, where are the pictures from Kayla’s party?” Grace asks. 

“We need them. She’s such a cutie pie. I can’t believe she’s eight already!” Sarah gushes. 

“We don’t have any,” Cameron says. His voice sounds neutral but Dean knows how broken up about it he really is. Dean squeezes his hand and Cam squeezes back. “She doesn’t like having her picture taken anymore,” he lies. 

“I told you that your weird thing about pictures would rub off on her,” Derek says, shaking his head. 

“Yeah…” If only he knew. Cameron takes a large sip from his beer. 

“Speaking of birthdays,” Sarah says a little loudly to cut the tension. “Heard you had one.” She nudges Dean’s shoulder with hers. 

He clears his throat and forces a smile. He’s going to have to get used to the whole  _ friends _ thing. “Yeah. We just hung out… Had some pie… I went to see my brother for a little bit.” It sounds nice when he leaves out the details. 

“We didn’t find out until after—” Grace clears her throat and glances at Sarah whose jaw tightens. “Anyway.” She reaches into her purse and puts a card and small wrapped rectangle on the table. There’s balloons all over the paper and the card has the most colorful  _ Happy Birthday _ _! _ Dean’s ever seen. 

He lets go of Cameron’s hand and flips open the card. There’s three different messages inside. 

The first is from Sarah.  _ So glad you’re with us! Hope you know that we’ve adopted you and there’s no escape now! Welcome to the friend group and Happy Birthday, Dean! Lots of love, Sarah _ . There’s a small drawing of a three tier cake next to a wrapped present. 

The second is from Grace. _Happy Birthday Dean! Didn’t know what you’d like besides the kind of music Cameron would die for. Hopefully you don’t have this one yet._ _~Grace_.

Derek’s has a goofy smiley face next to _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ _-Derek_. 

Dean smiles, knowing that despite the fact that they’re still chatting a little, everyone is watching. He unwraps the cassette tape and pulls out Metallica. He had this one, but he has no idea where it disappeared to. It’s probably either in some motel room states away or managed to slide under the seat in Baby. 

“Thanks! I needed this one,” he flips it over despite knowing the playlist by heart. “Thanks.” 

“I meant what I said. You’re stuck with us,” Sarah says with a smile. He hopes so. He’s never had more than one friend at a time. Lee stuck around for a little while, but then, Lee didn’t stay in friend territory the entire time either. Besides, he likes Cameron’s friends. They’re a lot to take in, but they’re welcoming and nice. 

“Yeah, she already threatened Cameron,” Derek says. 

“Lightly!” Sarah protests. 

“Profusely,” Grace corrects. 

“If I break your heart, she’ll personally see to my slow and painful death,” Cameron says. 

Dean laughs. That’s the kind of thing that happens in books and movies. It’s not something that happens in real life. Not over him. He’s not the one people protect. Is he? “No chance of that happening,” he says, more to cut off his train of thought than anything else. “But thanks.” 

Friday is the big day. Dean hopes for not many more big days in the near future as he lies on his back in his bedroom. His legs dangle off the side of the bed. He’s long since given up on trying to read or go find his walkman to listen to anything other than the sound of Cameron’s voice through the walls. Today, right now, Cameron is telling Kayla about televita. 

She doesn’t show up in any photos anymore. It’s been a single week and every picture that Jenny tried to take while frantically hoping that Cameron had made some kind of mistake had been empty of her daughter’s smiling face. It’s touch and go with even finding her through the viewfinder, her image no longer so easily caught by the mirrors inside the camera. It’s only been a week, and time is already up. 

They had planned for this though. Cameron didn’t want to do it in the middle of the week and have her either go to school while still reeling, shattering into a million pieces, or miss school because her world got flipped upside down. Friday was the day. After picking her up from school, Dean had taken her to the park and kicked a ball around with her for a little bit despite the cold. They’d done some reading and she told him stories as he had made her favorite mac n cheese bake. The kind with the broccoli mixed in and the bread crumbs on top. She cuddled with Cameron after dinner while they talked about their days. But now it’s after dinner and she’s sitting in her room with her dad and learning the truth. 

“No!” Kayla yells. Dean winces. “You’re lying! Stop lying!” He hates that he can hear her voice shaking. “No! That’s not real! Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Her door slams open and Dean sits up. 

“Kayla—” Cameron starts but is cut off by Kayla barreling into the room Dean is in. 

“I’m not a monster!” she screams at him before looking at Dean. “He’s lying! Tell him to stop lying!” He doesn’t have time to react before she climbs into his arms. 

“You’re not a monster,” he says softly, looking over her shoulder as Cameron walks in. Their eyes lock and Cameron lets out a breath. “You’re not a monster.” 

“I’m not a monster,” she says into his shoulder. 

“But he’s not lying, princess.” She doesn’t answer or move. “Give him a chance. He’s your dad and he loves you. He’s not lying to you. Give the guy a chance.”

Kayla pulls away enough to look over her shoulder. She looks scared as hell. “Daddy?”

“Baby.” 

She runs back over to him and finally starts crying once he’s hugging her. Dean gets up and moves toward the doorway. He wants to give them privacy in this moment. Cameron stands, lifting Kayla with him, her arms tight around him. He goes to the bed and they lie down facing each other, foreheads pressed together. He wipes her tears gently with his thumb and she takes a deep breath. 

Dean hears her start asking questions in whispers as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Everything is going to change for her now. 

Kayla is working on her homework at the table while Dean sits with Cameron on the couch. Dean looks over his shoulder at her. She’d had a rough night after their talk. They’d called Dean in at one point so she could ask him about hunters. He’d promised to protect her from every hunter. Her and her dad. Today has been quiet. She hasn’t wanted to talk a lot. She was up in her treehouse for a long time this morning. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Cameron asks. 

“A lot.” Dean looks back at the empty fireplace. “Her. Homework. Sam. Something Sam said.” 

“What did Sam say?” 

Dean chews on the inside of his lip. He’d mentioned that Dean could get a GED. He’d dismissed it, but why couldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he? “You know I dropped out.” Cameron nods. “Do you know if I’d still be able to get my GED? Or is that dumb? I might be too old. Nevermind. Forget it.” 

“It’s not dumb and you’re not too old,” Cameron says evenly. Dean looks at him. There’s no point in trying to hide his emotions. Cameron can already feel them. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” He does. “Yeah. A little.” 

“Then we’ll look into it. It’s a lot of studying, but you can do it.” Cameron presses a kiss to his cheek and nose. “Okay?” 

“Yeah.” His anxiety has left the building. He kisses Cameron’s lips gently. “Thanks.” 


	29. Chapter 29

Dean wakes up wrapped up in Cameron’s arms. He turns slowly, carefully in case Cam is still asleep, and finds a very sleepy boyfriend. One of his eyes opens a crack and he smiles. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Dean whispers back before giving him a soft peck. Cameron kisses him back just as quickly and runs the tip of his nose over Dean’s. 

“I had a dream,” Cameron says, voice still sleepy as his eyes close again.

“Okay, Martin Luther King Jr.,” Dean smiles when Cameron doesn’t keep talking. 

“We were married…” He sounds like he’s still asleep, but when Dean’s heart jumps, Cameron’s eyes open immediately. They focus and he lifts his hand to stroke Dean’s face. 

He wonders which emotion Cameron can feel right now if not all of them. He can’t even pinpoint how he’s feeling. It’s weird to hear the word “married” and want it so badly it makes his stomach hurt as it twists into knots. But he’s also confused because when did that change? When did he start becoming hopeful about the future? When did he start wanting to be tied to one person for the rest of his life? How did it happen without him noticing? It was just a dream, words said between the veil of sleep, but Dean can’t help the fact that he feels hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the man who is looking at him with those chocolate brown eyes that sparkle when he’s happy. 

Dean’s hand moves to Cameron’s jaw as he moves closer to kiss him again, this time without the intention to stop. Cam moves, propping himself up on his elbow even as his lips belong to Dean. Their hips press together and Dean’s fingers slide into Cameron’s hair, holding the back of his head as he swallows his tongue. 

“I love you,” Dean says into his mouth, refusing to pull away even as the words make their escape from his chest. They need to be said. They have to be heard. 

“I love you,” Cameron says as Dean swallows it whole. 

One of his hands moves down Cameron’s body, fingertips gliding over his heated skin. He tugs down on the pajama pants and boxers and feels Cameron move to free himself of clothing. Dean helps, holding them in place so he can step out of them and kick them to the end of the bed. 

“One of us is overdressed,” Cameron says, Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

“So fix it,” Dean teases quietly. 

Their lips finally part so Cameron can kiss down his body, planting each kiss deliberately as he works his way South. His teeth graze Dean’s hips, teasing and forcing Dean to shiver despite the heat between them. His boxers are removed just before Cameron licks up Dean’s morning wood and leaves a kiss at the tip. 

He crawls back on top of Dean, wasting no time in finding his lips to kiss again. They press together, skin to skin as their hands rome, grope, squeeze. Their dicks rub together between them, friction building as Cameron’s hips move. Dean lets out a soft moan.

“Shh…” 

Dean bites his lip, one hand tangling with Cam’s, finger’s linking easily, the other gripping his hip. Frottage is usually saved for showers now, but there’s no time for the extra prep. Between their urgency to ravage each other and the clock running down to when Kayla wakes up, they really don’t have time. 

Their hips grind together, their cocks hard against the other, tips wet with precum as they bite down their grunts and groans. The bed creaks under them as they pant, breaths coming harder and faster. 

Dean pulls Cam’s face back to his, kissing him hard and sucking his tongue into his mouth to stifle any noise he might make as he feels himself rise over his edge, shuttering and spilling onto himself. He lets go of his hip long enough to find Cameron’s cock. He circles his shaft and uses his own come to slick it enough to pump hard and fast. 

“Mmph!” 

Dean’s mouth muffles the sounds but he doesn’t let up until he feels the hot come paint his stomach and hand. He drags his finger through it and raises it to his lips, licking slowly as his boyfriend watches. 

“Good morning,” Cam says softly, still hovering over him. 

“Good morning,” Dean says, stretching out beneath him, putting on a show for just him. He licks his lips, still savoring the salty flavor on his tongue. 

“How are you still a tease after that?” he hisses. Dean gives a crooked grin and winks. “I’m not taking this warfare. I have pancakes to make.” He kisses Dean again and gets up, Dean trailing behind, to get cleaned up enough to go start on the day. 

Sunday nights are good date nights. It’s the first night after a four night stretch of family nights. Those are great and all with board games, movies, or reading Kayla to sleep, but sometimes they’re just homework and tantrums. Dean still cherishes them. But getting to spend time alone with his boyfriend, out on the town? He’s lived in a world of black or white. Hunting or living. One or the other. He doesn’t have to choose here. He gets both family and dates. He gets both quiet nights in and louder nights out. 

“I’ll order. What do you want?” Cam asks as they get out of the car and start heading for the bar. 

“Jack and Coke?” He’s not really one for fruity cocktails. He doubts he ever will be. He likes the burn of the alcohol in his throat. 

“Branching out from beer? I’m shocked.” 

“Have to keep you on your toes.” Their eyes meet as they smile over at each other. This is where Dean would kiss him, but he can’t here. 

“Jack and Coke,” Cameron repeats before pulling the door open and allowing Dean to step through first. 

Dean scans the full room for trouble like he always seems to do, but his eyes land on a pool table with a bunch of guys who think they’re something. The two that have just finished their game are passing the winner’s money between each other. 

One round won’t hurt. 

Dean walks over, doing his best to look uncertain as he asks to play. The guys grin, biting the bait immediately. They think they smell money but they’re wrong. Dean puts down a 20 and grabs a cue. He chalks it off as they set up the rack. 

“How often you play?” the guy with the oversized jersey asks. He’s not playing this round, sitting down with his beer while his friend in the faded tee gets ready for winnings he’ll never earn. 

“I’ve only played a few times,” Dean lies. “Not going to lie, it’s been awhile.” 

By the time Cameron has their drinks and turns around, Dean is well into his groove. His eyes meet Cam’s and he smirks before dropping his eyes back to the game and taking a shot that no beginner would make. 

“Fuck, man,” jersey guy groans. 

“Beginner’s luck,” Dean shrugs. When his turn is over, he takes his drink from Cameron and takes a sip. 

“Dean…” 

“It’s fine.” Dean smirks. “Just watch.” 

He sinks all stripes into their pockets with such ease that he starts showing off. It’s the first time Cameron has seen him play. He has to get cocky, smirk, put on his best game. He’s rewarded every time with more than the frustrated sighs of his opponent and friend. He earns flirtatious smiles from the most handsome guy in the joint and he only has eyes for him. 

“Double or nothing!” Dean grins when they can’t see him. 

“I don’t know if I can get that lucky twice,” he says, hesitating for their benefit. The pot gets sweeter, the opponents, dumber, and Dean serves a trick shot perfectly. He looks up from the table to see Cam watching, the wavering uneasiness melted away. All that’s left is a glint in his eye and a small smile on his lips as he watches Dean. He nods toward the bathroom.

“Fellas. It’s been great…” Dean says after doing a trick shot for his winning shot at the end of the third round. He scoops up the winnings and pockets it. What started as a $40 pot became an easy $320. If he didn’t have better things to do tonight and if these assholes were any richer, Dean would pull every cent they had left on them over the next hour. “Better luck next time, huh?”

He heads to the bathroom and doesn’t have to wait long before Cameron steps in after him. Their lips collide as they stumble into a stall. The door slams behind them and Cameron turns the lock without looking. A bathroom has never been so great.

“Why is that hot?” Cameron asks breathlessly between kisses. Dean sucks his neck and bites gently. Never hard enough to leave a mark even if sometimes he wants to. “It shouldn’t be that hot.” Dean doesn’t bother answering, pulling Cameron’s face back to his own and kissing him harder. Cam undoes Dean’s belt and makes quick work of the zipper, groping and pulling a groan from Dean.

The intent for the date wasn’t to wind up in a bathroom stall with his pants around his knees getting a blowjob to defeat all blowjobs. They were going to go to the bar, have a few drinks, play some darts maybe, share some fries, and head home to not watch a movie. But Cameron is on his knees in front of Dean, their eyes locked as Cam’s head bobs. 

Dean runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s thick hair and grabs a handful of it as he feels Cameron’s tongue swirl. It doesn’t take long for Dean to come. Cameron opens his mouth, his tongue out as Dean watches it get painted with white. Cameron swallows and smiles up at him. 

“Hindsight,” Dean says a little breathlessly. “We have a car and this bathroom is gross.” 

“Less obvious this way,” Cameron shrugs as he wipes his mouth. Dean zips up his pants and sighs to try to return his breathing to normal faster. “You’re adorable when you’re flushed from sex.” Dean blushes and helps him up before stepping out of the stall. 

They go to the sinks to wash their hands. It’s instinct to look into the mirror to catch someone’s eye. It’s easy to forget that he won’t show up when there isn’t a single mirror left in the house they share. His heart stops for a moment before he looks over at Cam and sees him resolutely not looking in the mirror, the soap on his hands fascinating. 

“Teach me to play pool?” Cameron asks, looking over at Dean.

“Hell yeah.” He turns off his water and gives Cameron a lingering kiss before moving on to dry his hands. Jersey guy walks in and glances at Dean. “Sup.” 

“How’d you do it? I’ve never seen anyone beat Red,” he says as he heads to a urinal. Dean gives a noncommittal shrug with a flash of a smile. “Unreal.” 

“Have a good night,” Dean says over his shoulder as he leaves to go find a table for him to teach Cameron to play. 

Dean stares at the ceiling in the dark, Cameron snoring on his shoulder. It can’t be before 3AM. He runs his hand down Cameron’s arm, fingers gentle, barely grazing. Dean’s never bothered caring about the day of the week before, but as far as Sundays go… Sundays are pretty great. Cam lets out a sleepy sigh and Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head before letting his eyes slide shut. 


End file.
